


The Black Crow

by Andi_Singer999



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Multi, Parent Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andi_Singer999/pseuds/Andi_Singer999
Summary: The Black Crow is called many things; the most well-known being The Warg Rider. Being a beast tamer on The Continent is difficult. The many Witchers killing the beast and taking her coin. Maybe the world is big enough for a few of them. Coming into contact with a Witcher on her latest hunt, The Black Crow assumes their paths will never cross. Until they see each other more times than they both care to.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	1. 1

My footsteps landed lightly on the tiles of the roofs beneath me. I ran as quickly as my legs could carry me across the roofs of the small town. Panting quickly, I ran from the growls and snarls from the beasts running alongside me on the ground. Their sounds caused the streets lined with people to flee in terror, crying out to others. Leaping to the next rooftop, the paws of the wargs running with me threw sand and dust behind them. Their golden eyes watched me carefully, while the eyes of the patrons amongst the streets glued to the giant beasts running through the streets. Whispers and mumbles from the streets echoed around amongst the buildings, the words carried by the smoke erupting from the chimneys.   
Leading the wargs away from this horrid town, I jumped into the street. Standing up straight, the town's eyes now on me, watching me carefully, I lifted my hand towards the rushing beast. His golden eyes pinching while his lip lifted in a snarl. The heavy, pounding feet galloped towards me, acting to charge. Grabbing the golden fur, the beast continued to speed out of the town and into the setting sun. While I adjusted on Hod’s back, Kav snipped and growled next to us. The cool wind brushed my cheeks, releasing the hood from my head. The three of us rushed from Everrock towards our next supposedly untamable beast in Brinegulf.   
The gold in my pouch jingled lightly while I moved with Hod. The distance between the towns was immense, harsh areas of draught or frozen tundra. Slowing the beasts, we made our way towards the woods. I made a small fire of fallen twigs and leaves. Hod and Kav laid beside the fire, warming themselves after a heavy meal.   
“You fought hard, Kav.” I stated, the brown warg lifted her head to look at me. Smiling, I stretched out my hand to gently stroke her head. The golden, gleaming eyes closed as she relaxed, her ears twitching and flinching in response to my hand. Hod yawned, his jaw stretching open to reveal a rolling deep pink tongue and long, sharp yellow teeth. Laying his head across his paw, his back foot kicked out from underneath his stomach. Picking at the vegetables before me, Kav laid on her side. Her substantial weight created a small wave of wind that carried dead leaves away from us.   
The next morning, our feet and claws carried us like whispers towards Brinegulf. Word of the Black Crow had spread like wildfire. The person who could tame deadly beasts; I had heard the name Warg Rider, Black Crow, Ghost, along with many others, all of them used to describe me. The unknown person who had appeared from thin air then would vanish without a trace. I would tame the beasts threatening towns; dragons, wendigos, even golems. However, there was a Witcher going around behind me, killing them despite no threat being present.   
I had to beat the Witcher to Brinegulf; a warg had been spotted near a farm. They had described it as a black wolf with a small nose, eyes gleaming and reflecting the moonlight, rough fur that almost smoked with some emotion. I felt related to this warg. Hod and Kav knew the race was on to save the innocent animal.   
The sky above gleamed with sun rays that warmed the skin contrasting against the cold wind beating across my cheeks. Hod’s head bounced with each step as he threw himself towards the approaching town. I was clueless about the town, despite the pay I would receive should I take the warg with me. Hod’s light brown fur waved and recoiled across his muscles. In the distance, a small black spot, the beginning sights of Brinegulf. I chuckled, my muscles slightly relaxing; perhaps the depleting journey had been worth it all.   
Arriving in the bustling town, Hod and Kav stuck close to me. Their shoulder’s bump into mine occasionally. I kept the hood of my cloak pulled up; I could look out, no one could look in. A large part of keeping my identity hidden was hiding my face. Keeping my hand on Kav, the coarse fur guiding me towards my gold and information.   
“Where’s the warg?” I asked the man at the table while I burst through the towering doors. The room was embellished with green fabrics, gold jewels, and ruby’s.   
I could hear the man shuffling in his seat. Hod shook his head, his ears gently slapping against his jaw. A sharp smell entered the room; pine and roses. Looking in the direction of the smell, a woman stood. Her red floor length dress shivering as she stared with wide eyes at the beasts beside me. Standing up straight, I dropped my hood to gain a better look at the room. Vast, ever reaching outwards with open windows that had their drapes floating in the wind. Kav shuffled uncomfortably next to me.   
Placing my hand gently on her shoulder, she glanced at me.   
“Where’s the warg?” I asked again. My tone turning more demanding than before. Hod’s lip lifted slightly to reveal the teeth waiting behind. The man, graced in purple puffed sleeves and a large gold chain that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. His face was pale from fear as he eyed the wargs carefully. We could both tell he didn’t belong here, in this seat. He was playing pretend with the woman who watched from the doorway across the room. Heavy shuffling of metal grating against itself echoed through the halls. Guards approached, their weapons drawn. The metal glinting with the sun of a new day.   
I closed my eyes and sighed. Hod and Kav growled, the muscles of their shoulders contracting in tight readiness. Their claws grating against the stone floor beneath us. Casting a momentary glance behind me, another man approached shouting orders.   
“Put away your weapons, fools. The crow is here to aid us against the warg.” He shuffled himself around Kav who reacted with a lifted lip, her nose scrunching gently. The men behind us obeyed, their weapons being sheathed in leather holsters at their sides. Their feet marched in tandem with each other as they slowly retreated to their posts. The guard with dark brown skin shooed away the terrified boy in the chair. Gently patting the Wargs by my side, their tense muscles relaxed. Their warm tongues reaching out to wet their noses.  
The man pulled away his armor, piece by shrieking piece. Closing my eyes for a moment, I reopened them. The guard before me now walked closer only in his shin guards.   
“The warg was last seen near the edge of the far field. The farm owner had noticed it sniffing around his cattle.” He said, his hands shuffling through papers amongst his desk.   
“Has it been seen any closer? In any greater detail?” I questioned further. The guard paused, looking on either side of me.   
“None that have been reported. The report of the farmer is alone at present.” He replied, in his hands, he held a tightly wound roll of stained fabric. Extending it towards me, I walked towards him to grab it.   
While reading the report, the guard looked me over.   
“The black crow.” He chuckled sitting in the chair. “A woman. Warg rider. Beast Tamer. Silent Mist.” He shot off, his hand gripping his chin in no attempt to hide his smile. Flipping the paper over was a drawing of the warg. The frantic drawing portraying something larger, more formidable than a warg, the lines of the drawing were shaken and wavering from fear.   
“This is no warg.” I told him. Hod growled low in his chest. The guard’s eyes snapped up from the swords on my sides to my eyes.   
“The Witcher will be here soon enough.” The guard dismissed.   
I scoffed gently smirking, my tongue protruding to wet my dry lips. Shaking my head, I looked at the drawing again. The feet and talons catching my attention.   
“Where is this farm?” I asked frantically; the situation calling for speed and immediate action. The three of us galloped to the farm, the members of Brinegulf rushing to get out of the way. The Caragor weighed heavily on my mind. Faster, smarter, and stronger than wargs. I rushed off of Hod, my feet running beside his as we approached the door. A chestnut gelding stood carefully tied to the post nearby. I cursed myself and burst inside.   
The house was dark, the fire in the fireplace roaring, lighting the miniscule house with an orange glow. At the table sat a shaken old man, his short hair white from age. His skin withered and weathered. His wide pale eyes staring at me with his hand lifted in a defensive manner.   
“Where did you see it?” I asked, ignoring the white haired Witcher staring at me. The old man pointed out the window with a shaking finger and small gasps. I rushed back out the door, and towards the woods.   
“Hod, Kav. Listen for my call.” I demanded keeping them in the area. Galloping hoof beats followed behind me catching up to me all too quickly. Turning his horse to stop me, the Witcher looked down at me. His lips were pinched together tightly in anger.   
“You stay here.” He demanded. I shook my head and moved around his horse. The Witcher moved his horse again, shuffling around ahead of me.   
“It can not be tamed.” He said, still using his horse to keep me in place. The horse's eye went wide, his nostrils flaring in frustration and confusion.   
“You can’t fight it alone.” I told him. Looking up at him, he turned his horse sideways. The hoofbeats pounding and softening the ground around us.   
The Witcher watched my wargs carefully, I could hear their snarls and growls from where we stood. Glancing back to them, Hod took off towards us. Teeth bared and ready for action. Kav followed behind, the younger and less experienced warg wanting to take charge. Whistling quickly, Hod and Kav both stood next to me. The Witcher's horse now turning and crow hopping, ready to run for its life.   
“The only way to rid this town of the Caragor is to do it together.” I said, mounting Hod. The hair on the back of his neck lifting sharply. Kav watched me, her head leaning on my thigh while she licked her nose. The Witcher's jaw clenched, his golden eyes peering at me sharply. Turning his horse with a kick, we took off at a gallop. Staying side by side, I released my hold on Hod, the three of us easily passing the Witcher and reaching the woods. On the trees, I could smell the beast's scent. A thick, oily scent. Hod and Kav stopped, their noses lifted and flaring. Kav growled towards the right, her head hanging low. Dismounting, I calmed my wargs.   
Looking in the direction, the smell strengthened. Groaning, I rubbed my eyes; it had been many years since I had encountered such a challenging beast.   
“This way.” I told the Witcher. His golden eyes glaring at me as he passed to go towards the beast. Following behind him, I watched where I stepped. To beat this animal, I had to stay as quiet as possible. In front of us, a twig snapped loudly. Bird wings flapped as they called out a warning to each other. I looked upwards into the trees; long, thick branches stretching towards each other.   
“Stay here.” I told the white haired Witcher, who ignored my words and continued further towards the sound.   
Staring down at the Witcher, I moved further into the woods past him. The pale man watched me, his lips pursed in anger and distraction. Watching the brush shuffle and wave, I couldn’t determine whether it was the untamable beast or the wind. Jumping closer, I listened. Sharp snorting rang out from below me. There he was; circling the tree I was in. The Caragor’s yellowed teeth barred permanently; his small, yellow eyes bore holes into the branch at my feet. Leaping up the tree, the Caragor’s talons helping him climb through the branches next to me.   
Jumping down from branch to branch, the Caragor’s hot breath against my back. Facing face to face with the brooding beast, the Witcher charged. The Caragor leaping over him towards me. His grey, spiked flesh laying against his neck and spine. His mouth dripping with drool and slobber; the long tusks pinning me against the forest floor. I could only produce my sword by my side, then pressing the tip upwards into his chest, a loud roar and cry shredding through the air. The Caragor backed away limping, his face fallen with pain.   
Placing my hand out, I slowly approached the beast. The Witcher watched from his place, held back by some force of magic. The Caragor whimpered and moaned while I slowly pulled the blade from his chest. A non-fatal wound that could heal with proper aid. The Caragor’s eyes switched from the pained expression, returning to the brutal expression with his flat spines lifting again. Plunging my sword into the side of his cheek, he cried out again. His grey, hairless, spine littered body falling between myself and the Witcher.   
Pulling my sword free once more, I began to walk away.   
“They get defensive over their food, you may want to step away.” I told the Witcher while pulling my hood up once more. I released an unrelentingly loud whistle that echoed through the woods. Pounding footsteps of Hod and Kav as they came to claim their food. The Witcher now walked beside me, sword sheathed.   
“I told you it couldn’t be tamed.” His low grumbled voice muttering. I sighed and continued walking to gain my coin.   
“Always need to try.” I told him. The Witcher gleefully mounted his prancing horse.   
“The coin is mine.” I said. He looked down at me before shaking his head.   
His chestnut gelding listening clearly to his riders commands, galloped back into town. I couldn’t help but rub my eyes after dropping my hood. I sat on the edge of the woods, waiting for my Wargs to finish their meal and return with a prize worthy of the Warg rider. Looking into the small town, I couldn’t help but remember where I once came from. Flower petals fell from the sky that summer evening, I was taken into a small tavern with a kind owner who aided me in learning the world around me.   
Kav galloped happily towards me, a long, sharp tusk dropped at my feet. Coated in blood and spit. Hod approached slower, his jaw hanging low. Blood dripping onto the forest floor while he panted. The three of us trotted back into town, the large tusk proudly resting on my knee. Stepping off my mount, the Warg’s followed me as I entered the guards building. The Witcher stood in his black fur cloak.   
Throwing the tusk onto the wooden desk, the guard looked at me once more.   
“Warg rider. A beast finally untamed?” He questioned gleefully eyeing the tusk before him.   
“I’ll take my coin.” I demanded. The guard looked up, his brown eyes revealing his shock. He looked between the Witcher and I then stared at my warg’s still coated in fresh blood.   
“The Witcher has claimed the coin.” The guard looked back down at the tusk. Looking over to the Witcher, my lips pursed.   
“I will take my coin, Witcher.” I told him, holding out my hand. The white haired Witcher looked me up and down; his golden eyes glaring at me thoughtfully. Shaking his head, the pale, tall man turned and walked out the doors. His pocket full of my coin.   
Glancing back at the tusk, the guard stroked it carefully admiring the curve and sharpness of the deadly curve. I stomped forward, my hand stealing the trophy from my kill. That coin should have been mine. My pocket should be heavy; vindictive thoughts rolled around my skull as I walked out into the streets. My fingers pulled the thick hood over my head once more.  
The streets bustled loudly; horses hooves clomping while pulling wagons, the wheels scraping against the cobblestone, loud voices that quieted as I passed. Nearby the stables were clambering with metal clanging against metal, sizzling and hissing fires from the blacksmith; the smell of thick white smoke from the taverns. Strums of entertaining bards, banging of wooden cups as the patrons finished their piss ale.   
The hot breath of Kav being carried into my hood by the wind blowing from the north. I walked quietly, focused on the next town, the next beast that would be mine. Hod snarled to my left, shaking his head, I knew he caught a scent. But of what? I needed a better look, more height above the town bursting at the seams with people and animals.   
“Kav.” I whispered, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. Kav stood still, her small yellow eyes watching as she braced herself.   
I leapt from her back onto the roof of the inn. My feet planted firmly and carrying me across the roofs once more. Hod and Kav trotted down the street, alarming the people of the city that the Black Crow was leaving, the Black Mist carrying away the wind and her beasts with her. Hod snapped; slobber falling from his massive jaws. Looking at him, I nodded for him to chase the scent. The two warg’s galloped down the busy street. I followed as best as I could, leaping over the chimneys and onto the next rooftop. Birds escaped my speed only by their wings and coos.   
At the edge of the city, I saw the whitehaired Witcher escaping at a gallop with my coin.   
“Hod!” I called, my voice echoing through the brutal valley. The Warg’s halted to a stop, their feet dragging the mud and dirt with them. The dark warg glanced up at me, then turned his head back to the Witcher. With a lifted lip, Hod and Kav stood below the building by my side. I climbed down the side of the poorly built stable; stones that I could use for footholds and places to put my hands. Finally on the ground once more, I mounted Hod. I patted him on his rippling shoulder.   
“Let’s not waste energy, we will never have to see him again.” I watched the Witcher and he watched me. His chestnut horse stomping in anticipation. Turning to return South, I knew I could always return from where I originally came.


	2. Chapter 2

Myomel was in sight, the changing leaves falling around my galloping wargs and myself, the guards at their posts near the front gate. Halting to a stop, I received warm welcomes from my old friends.   
“Creosa iant Mellon!(Welcome old friend)” Calanon greeted, a warm smile spreading across his face. I dismounted quickly to embrace my dear friend. My arms wrapped around the cold steel of his armor as I smiled and was whisked from my feet.   
“Aminaya elea lle anta!(I should see your face)” I joked as he dropped me to the forest floor once more. Removing his helmet, I reveled in the familiarity of his dark skin tone. His glimmering eyes, the shade of dark, starry night; his cheeks blushing the color of a pink rose he once gifted in friendship. Smiling at each other, I embraced him once more.   
“Uma lle brien somethien? (Do you bring something?)” He asked as we stood by the gates, my wargs now playful pups among friends in the city. I nodded and hummed, extending the Caragor’s tusk.   
His smile faded quickly.   
“Caragor?” He asked, taking the tusk to examine it closely. I nodded again, explaining to him how I came of it.   
“Y' witcher?” Calanon prodded further.   
“Uma. (Yes)” I confirmed, looking around at the fallen leaves amongst us.   
“Ta il- tulunka. (It would not steady)” I said, my hands picking up an oddly shaped grey stone that fit into the palm of my hand. Calanon chuckled, returning the tusk to my hand.   
“I' witcher? (The Witcher)” I scoffed.   
“I' caragor.” I corrected. He shook his head with another bright smile.   
“Lle atar naa eska. (Your father is home)” My heart skipped a beat with overwhelming joy. “Ro wishes a' elea lle. (He wishes to see you)”   
With Calanon’s words I was off to see my father once more. Galloping through the empty streets, the fellow beasts roared, barked, howled, and pulled at their chains at us. Around the corner, father’s own beasts stood on hind legs unleashing a booming roar. Hod yipped and howled once I dismounted with the Caragor’s tusk. Our beasts rustling around the property with each other. Opening the door timidly, I announced my presence.   
“Atar?” I called out.   
“Tinu?” A hopeful voice called stepping into the hall.   
My father stepped into view; a short man with only 6 fingers and tanned skin, his soft brown eyes wet with tears. I nodded and ran to him, embracing him in a tight hug.   
“Atar, amin brien y' gift. (Father, I bring a gift)” Kneeling before him, I presented the tusk. I knew his emotion would be disappointment; killing animals in Myomel was seen as a sin worthy of a heavy punishment. Dropping my head and closing my eyes, I felt the weight lift from my hands.   
“Tinu.” He whispered.   
“Sut ume lle tul a ed' sina? (How did you come by this?)” He whispered examining the dreadful gift.   
“Brinegulf.” I mumbled, my chin beginning to quiver.   
“Caragor?” He asked, moving around me to sit at the table. I moved with him, nodding.   
I sat down, the small chair creaking under my weight, my father's eyes now ballooned in size as he gaped at the sharp tusk.   
“Nae ta mith ri' mor? (Was it gray or black)” He asked in a hurry. His brown eyes looking up at me then flashing back down.   
“Mith (Grey).” I said, my arms crossing over my chest.   
“Nae lle ereb?(Were you alone)” I shook my head.   
“Eller nae y' witcher. (There was a Witcher)” Father looked up at me, his hands dropping the tusk and grabbing my hands. His eyes flashed black, no white in sight as he spoke in common; a language unknown to him.  
“Three people traveling. Tracking dangerous beasts, you will have to face the hardest decision of your life. Your people are in danger so long as you know this Witcher.”   
Father’s arms shot out to his sides and his head dropped behind him, his jaw was slack as his premonition left him as soon as it had started.   
“Atar?” I called gently, moving from my chair next to him to hold his hand. As I had grown, Father’s premonitions had their truths; I learned from a young age to never ignore the spirits' words and to always thank them for their wisdom. He found me as a child, wandering through the woods. Quickly, his eyes returned to normal, his hand tightened around mine.   
“Atar?” I asked once more, he nodded his head with a small smile.   
“Lasta a' i' ooma.” He said, patting the back of my head as I rested my head on the back of his hand.   
“Amin anta utu- ner wargs. (I need to find more wargs)” I told him honestly; father nodded his head and took to his feet, moving about the small house to grab his book.   
The book laid between us; the pictures of all animals moving about either in herds or by themselves.   
“I' witcher naa travelien Rhun. (The Witcher is traveling East)” I informed Father who looked at me once more with his sweet brown eyes.  
“Lye can il- lava ho san- ner coia. (We can not allow him to take more lives)” Father said. I nodded while watching the herd of wargs traveling through the woods. I thought of the best way to meet them; traveling back towards Brinegulf, I could cut them off in the woods with some help from the members of my clan.   
“Esta sina undome, lye mista tul're amrun. (Rest this evening, we roam tomorrow morning)” Father said, closing the book and preparing dinner.   
I sat on the chair by the kitchen, my eyes playing tricks on me; seeing a small, black haired child with gleaming eyes of love as father taught the child to cook. His face was still as gentle as the day he brought me home, his smile was soft, welcoming; father hadn’t aged as I had. My eyes began to water as I watched the two laugh and joke as the little girl learned his language and the new world around her.   
“Mankoi naa lle cryien? (Why are you crying)” Father asked, grabbing my hand to soothe me.   
“I' fea nyara amin en' iire amin nae y' hin. (The spirit tells me of when I was a child)” Father wiped the tear that had fallen onto my cheek and placed it on his cheeks; a tradition usual for parents with children blessed by the spirits of the forest.   
While father cooked our stew, I told him of what the spirits showed me and how much those times meant to me; Father rejoiced in the memories of those times. We spoke as we welcomed the animals into the barn for the night; Hod and Kav cuddling together for warmth while Father’s beast grunted as she rolled onto her side, exhausted from the days roughhousing. Father tucked me into bed as he used to, his hands tucking me tightly into the sheets as he told me a famous story of the spirits of the forest and how they brought me from the sky. The smell of the sweet, sharp cedar of the house filled my nose and swirled around my head, the sounds of the sleeping animals in the barn nearby rolled throughout the house, my full, warm belly only aiding in the exhaustion now helping to close my eyes as I fell asleep in my old bed.   
In my dream, I saw the Witcher; his white hair and gold eyes, his pursed lips as he yelled at me about my beast’s; how they cost him his coin, how they could’ve gotten him killed. I retorted with how he stole my coin the first time our paths crossed, how he caused me to lose the caragor. The dream ended with a slap then a kiss. But not from the Witcher, from the spirits. I shot up from my bed; the darkness around the room folding me back into bed, now is the time to catch. Father’s light footsteps trodden around the house before he knocked on my door, the smell of dragon's breath wafting through the house.  
“Naa lle desiel? (Are you ready)” He asked. I nodded with an excited smile; breakfast went down in a flash and we were off. The six of us ready to tame more beasts for Myomel.   
We cut off the small herd as I had thought; running around the herd, separating them into easier tameable amounts. Hod and Kav surrounded the two wargs, circling them with the fur of their backs sticking straight up; their jaws open and chomping if they attempted to run. The two different colored wargs had their tails between their legs, their teeth a marble white showing their youth. Approaching slowly with extra amounts of dragon’s breath, I held out my hand; Kav snapped at the paw of the silver warg who cried as he stepped back into the circle, lifting the injured paw while he knelt down to lay on his side in submission of the older, stronger Warg.   
“Look at me.” I told him; his golden eyes shooting towards me. His lip lifted slightly to reveal his white teeth.  
“Are you hungry?” I asked moving closer, Hod snapped at the black warg, his teeth pinching the back of the neck. The black warg was tossed back into his place, Hod lowered his head; his aggressive stance overpowering the young warg who was attempting a challenge.   
Reaching forwards to the silver warg, he attempted to snap at my hand; snapping back, I stood up straight and pushed my shoulders forward. Dropping his lip, he sniffed at the air; his ears resting on his neck. I stepped forward once more, extending my hand for him to smell. The silver warg sniffed gently; the air around my hand turned cold as he sniffed the licked at the calming dragon’s breath in my palm.   
“Good.” I praised allowing him to eat the sweet treat from my hand. Hod barked and snapped as the young black warg charged at him. His back toes spread out to hold up their weight as they battled each other for dominance.   
“Kav.” I motioned with my head for her to help Hod tame the youthful beast. My wargs had the young beast on his back with his jaws snapping at their throats or feet, leaving trails of blood and slobber in his wake. Hod’s jaws shook as he hovered over the slowly defeated beast. The silver warg, now realizing I wouldn’t harm him, rested on his side watching the show beside us.   
He looked back at me; the golden eyes shimmering in the growing sun. Reaching out to scratch the fluffy chin of the youngling, his eyes closed as I scratched the delicate skin under his mouth.   
“Come.” I said, pulling more green dragon’s breath from my pocket to get him to his feet and following. I stood to the side, watching the black fur of the youngling shake as he fought against my two wargs who I had gotten on a similar adventure. Finally paying his head down in exhaustion, his spotted tongue dangling against the green grass while his eyes closed in final submission. The silver warg sat on the grass next to me; I made sure to leave a pile of the dragon’s breath while I established the bond between the black warg and myself.   
I stepped forwards, red dragon’s breath in my hand.   
“Watch the other one.” I said to Kav who ran to sit next to the young male. Kneeling next to the black warg’s face, I stretched out my hand. Taking the offering quickly, Hod jumped to the side; his tail wagging. Petting the thick fur on her neck, she opened her eyes once more; her pupils dilating, a bond.   
“Good.” I praised the black warg with a smile and more red dragon’s breath.   
“Come.” I announced as I walked towards Kav. She stood still for a moment as I mounted. Setting off towards Myomel, our traveling hoard now triple the size of before. Calanon welcomed us with a smile and a bowing head, the members of the city stood by their gates with their children happily celebrating as our group proudly walked by. Reaching out to me was a small child, a blue flower in his hand; his eyes were as green as the leaves surrounding the city.   
Nodding my thanks, I placed the blue flower on Kod’s head, behind her ear. Hod kept a close eye on the young wargs that walked on the inside of the road, the more experienced wargs closer to the edges of the fences to protect the men, women, and children. The wind blew weakly, my black hair being pushed behind my shoulders; the wargs sniffed the air, their ears forwards in attention. Looking behind me, the young wargs pranced up beside Kav for handfuls of dragon’s breath.   
“Y' beleg unity. (A strong unity)” One of the members of the community said with a smile on his face; heavy scarring across his face, a proud tamer commenting on my skills. I dropped my head and pressed my hands together, my fingertips touching my forehead. A sign of respect amongst us few; he followed my movements, respecting me as well. Kav and I continued towards our home with our new possibilities of hunters, guards, riding scouts, or even breeders. Father dismounted his large beast; round and dark in color, a large cone shaped head with a drooping bottom lip that exposed it’s pink and black gum.   
His three wargs seemed older than mine, their purpose would serve as guards; I followed father into the barn with excitement.   
“Lye naa findien n'ner ar' n'ner. (We are finding less and less.)” Father said opening the stalls in the barn. I nodded.   
“Atar, amin can il- stay.” I told him, gently petting the silver warg who closed her eyes as she panted and kicked her hind leg. Father stopped to look at me; his mouth closing in shock.   
“Eller naa ner n'e Rhun. (There are more out East)” He said brushing his new animals.   
“Atar,” I started while stepping over to him, “Amin will entula. (Father, I will return)” I told him, placing my hand on his arm. Father looked up to me with a small smile, hopeful while being sad.   
“Amin mela lle.” He said wrapping his arms around my torso. I smiled as I rested my head on the top of his head.   
“Amin mela lle.” I repeated.   
I spent another night in my childhood home; another dream from the spirits of the woods of the Witcher and my animals, a strange man and woman, and a blonde child of royalty. Father had packed more food, coin, and dragon’s breath to aid in taming the beasts of far lands. Having four wargs was a drastic improvement; the two young wargs having to earn their names as we traveled together. The young wargs learned quickly, picking up on habits from their mentors and myself. Stalking being the black wargs favorite, trapping and chasing being the silver wargs favorite.   
Today would be the first day of their riding training; the silver warg being first, Hod watched intently as I slowly mounted the smaller beast. He shook uncomfortably, his feet shuffling awkwardly. I praised the young beast, reaching forward to give him the green dragon’s breath which he took with unbridled glee. Hod clapped his teeth, catching our attention; he was correcting him. Smiling to myself, the two wargs working together made my heart swell with pride. The larger black warg was more of a challenge; she would attempt to roll and buck, trying anyway she could in an attempt to rid her back of me. Father taught me well, how to hold onto the wargs with my thighs and the areas of fur that would not hurt them simply remind them of their direction.   
Kav growled, her head dropping low to the floor as she licked her dripping teeth. The young warg whined as she attempted to roll again, pulling her to the left; she moved hesitantly; surely her confidence would grow over time. I dismounted, extending my hand with a palm full of treats. She refused the treat which worried me. My heart sunk, I immediately fawned over her; checking her stomach for digestive noises, checking her coat for dehydration or symptoms of illness. Her wet nose poked around in my pocket, reaching for the smell of red dragon’s breath.   
The five of us traveled around, collecting coin for taming the beasts of towns as Hod, Kav, and I had done for many years prior. On the outskirts of Blaviken, a sharp smell of hot shit and blood burned through my nose.   
“Kav.” I said, cringing at the lingering smell. Her bright face lifted into the air as she followed the scent to the side of a small lake. The four wargs surrounding me growling and snarling, their jaws clamping and opening to reveal their unraveling tongues. I looked around, checking for tracks nearby; deep holes burying themselves among the sand filling with water. Bubbles popped as they erupted from the water; a tall grey beast outstretching it’s spider-like legs, underneath was a wide man with shoulder length white hair.   
A quick stab from the Witcher into the beast's gut caused it to flail it’s wretched spindles. The witcher was as white as snow with eyes as black as coal. The young, eager black warg launched itself onto the face of the Kikimora; the Witcher pulled his sword from the beasts chest, black blood falling polluting the water around them as it squealed and cried. The grey skinned Kikimora fell to the Witcher’s feet who then raised his sword to the black, snarling warg. I whistled loudly, bringing the four warg’s to my side; the Witcher licked his lips as he readjusted the handle of his sword in his gloved hand.   
The wind blew around us; wafting the smell of the Kikimora into my hood. The witcher and I watched each other in silence; he panted heavily as he dripped with water prepared for more fighting. Hod stepped next to me, his head turning to rest on my shoulder.   
“What are you doing here?” He asked, lowering his sword. I stayed silent as the five of us watched him, observing his every move; how he sheathed his sword, dragged the massive Kikimora from the water onto the shore between us almost as if it’s an offering. Nearby a small doe lay on her side, panting heavily from the fresh wound that would take her life in some time.   
The white haired man strode over, speaking softly to the poor animal before ending the suffering of the poor animal. My wargs and I stayed nearby, observing the Witcher while he dragged the dead creature towards the edge of the forest; his chestnut gelding stood calmly and quietly as he tied the Kikimora carcass to itself then rested it on the back of his horse. I remembered the words of the spirits; how he would put all of Myomel in danger. I weighed my options, attempting to kill the Witcher would bring further problems, there was no option to stay around him, I had to stay as far away from him as possible; his kind was nothing good.   
The Witcher glanced back towards the edge of the woods once more as he walked towards Blaviken in silence; the four warg’s watched with perked ears and bright eyes as the Witcher turned and walked away once more, his face now returning to normal color. Turning back to the forest, I found the carcass of the doe. I buried the small, lonesome creature and praised the spirits of the woods; the smell of the Kikimora dissipated for a moment, a sign from the spirits. I stood and mounted Kav, we all took off through the woods, deeper East. A vision appeared before me; a man in white, long black hair, standing before our path.   
Stopping before him, he revealed his face; a ball of white light blinding me for a moment before fading into a face I recognized. My father stood before me, a gleam in his eye and a smile gracing his face like flowers in a field. His arm reached up, his tan index finger pointing behind me towards Blaviken. Furrowing my brows, I was supposed to stay away from the Witcher, I was supposed to keep him away from Myomel.  
“Auta a' ho.” The voice was different from my fathers; deeper, strained as the words escaped from between his brown lips.   
“Amin uma il- rangwa. (I do not understand.)” I told him, his smile widening as his hand never fell.   
“Auta a’ho. (Go to him.)” He repeated.   
My wargs stood calmly, before turning after father outstretched his left hand to rub the cheek of my mount. I faced the other direction, Kav’s feet moving slowly back towards Blavikin; I turned to see my father’s face once more, only, he was gone. A spirit had come to me, given me an order that I was to follow. I sighed heavily, a breath of white smoke chasing the heat from my lungs. The walls of Blaviken stood tall and proud, high above my head, in dark grey stone. Dismounting, I stood beside Hod and Kav, the two younger and smaller wargs followed obediently behind us.   
The entrance was void of any people, silent and still despite the warming torches on either side of the gate; the quick wind blew ashes against the cobblestone ground. The wind blew on my hood covering my face, hiding my identity, as the cold breeze pushed us further into the city. I dug deeper into the city, hearing joyous voices announcing items for sale, the smells of food and drink and of the barn nearby, clashing of the blacksmith’s tools in his small work space. I looked around, searching for a sign of the Witcher or a sign from the spirits. The crowd was thick, careless as they nearby bumped into my beasts.  
They would leap back with apologies as the whispers came, surrounding me at every angle; questions on who I was, where we came from, how my people could so easily tame the beasts among the lands. The people of this town walked besides us, observing the large mounts that stood taller than some of them. A young girl approached, walking besides me reveling in the warmth of Hod’s side. She attempted to reach her hand out, to gently touch the beast.  
“Do not touch him.” I demanded, tilting my head slightly towards her.   
Her hand dropped to embrace the other as she continued to walk with me.   
“The Black Crow does speak.” Her chipper young voice said. I nodded in silence once more.  
“I saw you run passed, why return?” She asked.   
“The spirits ordered me to.” I replied slowly; unsure of how she would react.  
“Good thing they did, we have a beast who must be tamed. Where would you take him?” She turned her shoulders in an attempt to gain a look at my face.   
“What beast?” She tilted her head with a hum.   
“Can not say, my father knows; I can take you to him, he can tell you where.” I thought on the offer, looking around aimlessly for any sign of the spirits, but they had all left me; they pointed me in the direction, perhaps this is why I was here.   
The young girl took me to a large, wooden door; a deep feeling in my chest, a feeling of magic nearby.   
“What is this?” I asked, turning to her. She shook her head.   
“I can not feel it nor see it. Like you and the Witcher.”   
“He was here? Is he in there?” I asked, my hands touching my wargs rough fur. She nodded, babbling on about his kill and what they spoke of. My eyes darted around the surrounding area, looking for the chestnut horse he walked in with. Spotting it, I smirked. The spirits brought me to this place, this moment, but I couldn’t think why.   
I was suddenly reaching out towards the gate, touching the magic before it; I walked through, it was a cold wash of air that transferred into the warmth of the sun. Everything was different; the smell of fresh citrus and the summer air, the sounds of birds chirping and fluttering their wings as they flew in the open space overhead.   
“Ah, Warg Rider.” A gentleman's voice welcomed me. Two sets of footsteps setting towards me; the first eager, the second more hesitant to follow the first man. My hand was stolen from my side, a quick peck on the back of the cold skin.   
“Drop your hood, you’re in knowing company.” The older man said, I kept my head low for a moment; I could only see the white hair that fell shortly from his chin. The man dropped my hand, which I used to pull my down to rest on my tensed shoulders. The thick wool opening to reveal the brightness of the sun. I could only wince against the light, then look around the room; beholding naked women pulling fruit from the full branches of thick trees, the tall, broad Witcher standing but a few feet away. His face in slight shock as I revealed my face.   
“My name is Stregobor.” The ruffled haired man said walking back towards the Witcher.  
He told me of how the Witcher and I served the same purpose with the same odd request; to kill a woman named Renfri, a woman born under the black moon. I inhaled sharply at the request, going against the spirits could prove fatal.   
“I understand how this may be difficult for you, Warg Rider, your people have never killed a living thing unless proved truly necessary. But might I assure you, this is truly necessary.” He looked at me, his brows lifted in truth. I nodded slowly, silently praying to the spirits for forgiveness.   
“This will be my coin.” The Witcher said, his eyes closed as he slowly looked at me, his jaw tightly clenched.  
“You’ve taken my coin. I take this coin.” I replied, I expected the sounds of my wargs but none came; I looked around me once more in confusion.   
The Witcher crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring my statement for the returned coin. The conversation was over before it had begun; I had all I needed, the description of the woman and where she last stayed. I made my way out of the magic room back to my beasts who yipped excitedly to see me as I tugged up my hood once more.   
“I saw your face, you know.” The girl said, holding my foot while I adjusted myself on Hod’s back. Smirking down at her, the young silver warg approached my side; his teeth peering from between his black lips.   
“No. You did not.” The five of us traveled through the woods once more, smelling for any sign of the woman.   
Stopping suddenly, I caught a strong smell of smoke from a fire nearby. I climbed the tree nearby to follow the smell unnoticed, the branches slightly falling under my weight then relaxing as I jumped to another. From tree to tree, I climbed and chased the smell through the pine trees. I saw a small fire warming the thoughtfully rotating food of the Witcher, close to his horse as it slept. A twig snapped nearby, alerting us to the presence of a woman; the woman I needed to kill for my coin. I looked back to the intrusive Witcher, his gold eyes peering up at me through the branches of the trees.   
I waited for my moment to kill her with a single arrow, but had no way to take the body from the man before her. I retreated to my Wargs to wait until the next morning to claim my coin. The Witcher did not take my kill to take my coin; why should I be better than him. I was enveloped in the warm, coarse fur of my animals as I was taken by the spirits through another dream. The woman with short brown hair, large eyes, and cream skin, she fought almost as well as the Witcher and I. The Witcher would not claim the coin. A demon with a large head and sandy colored skin, short curled horns above its head, a voice and blight flash of light.  
“Posada.” My father's voice echoes through my ears as I sit up still among the snoring animals. The day was grim, death lingering in the air around us like we were trapped in a room filled with fire. I moved carefully, each step calculated as I reentered the city; it was absent of all sound now.   
I went to find the old man, collect my coin the Witcher stole from me, but the magic was gone; the door now just a block of wood planks and metal hinges. Cursing to myself, I made my move in order to follow the spirits.   
Towards Posada.


	3. Chapter 3

My wargs shielded the window next to me while I sat inside the tavern with poison the townsfolk of Posada called ale lingering on my tongue, a loud and crude bard sang loudly nearby; his terrible words and song swirling around the small cramped building earning whole hearted pleas for him to stop his wretched songs. The door opened quickly; wood and metal slamming against itself as heavy footsteps walked towards the bartender. A familiar, husked voice demanding a drink of the swil before me. I knew it was the Witcher, I swore quietly to myself. Leaving the tavern in a hurry, my wargs snarled as they chased a scent lingering in the air. I dismounted in the air to allow the beasts full reign to search the land nearby; my hand grasped my bow tightly as I flew through the air and onto a nearby rock that stood high above. Watching as the sandy blond fur rushed past in a fleeting flash.   
The four wargs chased something that I could not quite find. The wargs sped around in circles as they struggled to capture and kill the thing. Cursing to myself, I was hit on the back of my head by something. I ducked quickly, looking around and only finding pebbles at my feet. The young warg cried out; an echoing whimper as the remaining beasts snarled and roared in a corner nearby. I followed the heart shattering sound; my bow ready in my hand, my feet lightly carrying me from rock to rock as I found them. The nameless black warg had a gash along her side that exposed deep tissue and muscle; her paws kicked as she lay whimpering and panting.   
“Stop there.” A mangled and frantic voice says.  
I turn sharply, protecting the young black warg with my bow drawn tightly at the Sylvan’s large head.   
“You did this?” I asked, the other three wargs waiting nearby. The horned creature swallowed as he looks at them. He nods quickly, his small black eyes blinking rapidly.   
“I should kill you.” I sneered through gritted teeth as I pulled my arm further back to strengthen the blow to the creature. He raised his hands quickly and took a step back.   
“No please.” He begged, “It is nothing your people can not fix!”   
“My people?” I questioned. He could not see my face, nor could he know of the Myomel.   
“The beast tamers.” He said, tilting his head towards the ground between us. I couldn't question the creature, couldn't come to discover how he knew of us I could only protect us.  
“Leave now and you will live. You have my word.” I told him, dropping my bow and placing my arrow back in it’s quiver on my thigh.   
I returned my attention to the black warg, her golden eyes looking at me as I comforted her before cleaning the wound with leaves from my pouch. Hod growled deeply behind me; he stepped between myself and whoever or whatever was nearby while I closed the deep, mangled wound of my new beast. She lay on her side panting after the stitches resealed her flesh back to itself.   
“Call off your beasts.” A feminine voice called out. I turned my head to her; a thick brown braid hanging over her left shoulder, long pointed ears jutting out from her taught hair.   
“Let us go back to the town, inform the townsfolk-” I said, slowly standing and putting my hands up by my head.   
“We can’t let you do that, Warg Rider.” Another voice behind me spat. I tilted my head slightly, trying to see the placement of the man behind me.   
The footsteps that approached were quick and quiet, fleeting by my side in an instant. I could whistle at my snarling beasts with their heads hanging low, their claws digging deep into the dirt as they were prepared with every muscle tensing with anticipation . I’ve seen them tear men apart; limb from limb despite the strikes struck at the faces or small beading eyes in desperation, the blood that pours from those shredded wounds and the way the crimson falls from the lips that curl while they devour every last ounce of flesh. Smirking, I inhaled through my lips as they curled into a circle to allow the familiar sound of the restraints falling free from the wild beasts. Being struck on the soft temple at the top of my skull, I fell onto my side.   
My vision swirled beneath my hood as I pressed my side onto the black warg, her coarse fur scraping against my burning skin. I blinked rapidly struggling to clear my vision to no avail.   
“You whistle, they all die.” The male said. He angrily pointed his weapon towards my head, I lifted my hand once more; but now, it shivered slightly.   
“Call them off!” The female screamed. A gentle whistle is all it took, long and low in tone as it boomed from stone to stone. The warg’s retreated nearer to me, their pink tongues caressing their black noses.   
I was bound and dragged into a cavern; dark with poor lighting. My hood was ripped from my head while my wargs waited nearby. The two elves held my weapons against me; the glitzing steel of my swords ringing quietly as the point was aimed at my throat, my stone arrowtips pressing deeply into the skin of my head.   
“Why are you keeping me here?” I asked, adjusting my legs under me. Small clouds of sand and dust built around me then escaped through a hole in the stone ceiling. They paused for a moment, their pointed ears peaking then wriggling towards sounds from the outside.   
“Your people stole our land. Pushed us from our homes.” I chuckled, my head rolling to my chest.  
“Myomel was always home to my people.” I said, my eyes glinting in the light as their expressions dropped and changed.   
“Myomel?” The male questioned, his feet repositioning beneath him. I nodded, wordlessly looking to my beasts.   
The three standing animals shook or yawned as they prepared for anything to happen. The elves pulled each other aside, speaking in hushed whispers, their native tongue floating about the room like smoke from a drundane pipe. Leaning forward for a quick moment, they flashed around me; hands yanking and pulling me to my feet without hesitation. My hands were released from their bruising bondings, the two elves looked to the ground in apology. I rubbed my wrists while shaking my head with my eyes closed.   
“Apologies are not necessary.” I smiled now, walking towards my welcoming animals to stroke their fur and reassure them. The two elves fumbled over their words; their hands waving as they spoke, they stepped away then stepped forward. I couldn’t truly understand their words as they spoke too quickly for me to understand, so I just smiled and nodded.   
My beasts and I walked out of the cavern and back into the bright light of the burning sun and deep yellow of the sand around us. The elves continued to follow us, speaking rapidly, shuffling and creating clouds of dust and smoke. Kneeling next to my black warg, I smiled kindly; her bright eyes coupled with slow pants and a bouncing spotted tongue. I caressed the pained animal, helped her to her shaken feet. She wobbled as she lingered for a moment; her strong legs struggling to support her muscles now weak from pain.   
“Control the Sylvan. A witcher is coming.” I told the female elf, now pale as I tugged my hood onto my head. She nodded spastically, the male elf hitting her shoulder with scrunched brows and lips tight in a line.   
While escaping the labyrinth the desert offered, another vision came. My father stood before me, his soft, unaging face staring at me. His brown eyes squinting as his cheeks lifted flawlessly into a curling smile revealing glittering, white teeth.   
“Neshanas. Tarry nesh Tel'witcher. (Stop. Tarry for the Witcher)” My father’s voice wavered. I was confused.  
“I was told to stay away from the Witcher.” I replied, the vision of my father wavered for a moment.  
“Stay.” My father said once more; I nodded obeying the spirits. The feeling of confusion settled, my path was becoming less and less clear, struggling to keep itself walkable in my mind with every vision I encountered.   
I waited among the large rocks as the spirit had instructed; the young, nameless warg healed quickly, her spirit returned within the day the Witcher had arrived. Separating the two new animals, I began to think of names from them with a drawn out smile on my lips. The festivities of the name giving ceremony could be done poorly here and I thought it was time. Another voice waddled through the desert, higher pitched than the Witcher, he spoke about the exciting tales of the white haired, silent man; I could feel the quiet man’s anger. The names would have to wait for another time as I watched the two men attempting to slay the Sylvan. The traveling companion was the bard from the tavern with his lustful songs and his upbeat personality despite his lack of success among the patrons of inns and taverns. A quick thunk, similar to mine and he was lain on the ground beside the chestnut gelding.   
The Witcher had a small mark on his forehead, a few drops of red dropped from the fresh wound. He crouched and stalked the devil looking creature before taking it to the ground and having an above aggressive conversation with him; their conversation cut short as their limp bodies were bound tightly with rope and vines, as I was, then dragged into the same place I sat not a day before. Again, the five of us waited in silence for the white haired, brooding beast. A beast I had no intention of taming, a beast that could not be tamed; who refused it with every fibre of his being.   
Hod and Kav did the hunting for themselves; luckily, fathers rations had survived and thrived in my pouches. I knew I would soon have a fire to make a stew or soup that would warm me from the inside out. I sat in the sand, drawing sigils that shuffled as I moved the twig. I occasionally gnawed on my vegetables, raw and cold in comparison to the heat around me; the bright sun above set mirages ricocheting through the large stones. In the distance was loud clambering; the Witcher had regained consciousness along with the aggravating bard. I listened in silence as he thrashed about, struggling against the tight bonds behind his back. Peering around a boulder, the two elves turned their heads back to the tied men; they whispered harshly. The female elf was struck down by a single kick to the nose from the silent Witcher who grunted and groaned.   
I rolled my eyes at the boorish brute of a man and his horrid actions. I checked on the youthful warg’s, the female healing quickly bound around, gleefully playing with the silver male. Their tail’s wagged as she crouched in playful demeanor, the young male fell onto his back as he panted excitedly, prancing his paws in the air. Hod and Kav approached me, we all watched the two wargs train. Teeth bared, claws pushing and pulling, bits of fur floating away with the wind. Their muscles quivered as they strained to support the other.   
“Warg Rider?” A curious, yet frightened, voice called behind us. Hod and Kav glanced over their shoulder, their gaze returning to the playful younglings. The voice was no threat to myself; clearing my dry, aching throat, I turned to the person.   
The proud bard with a new lute brandished over his shoulder. The long dark wood handle cascading over his shoulder as if he brandished a sword like myself and the Witcher. I nodded slowly, licking my lips. The Witcher stood behind him in the distance, his lips tighter than his grip on the reins in his hands. I smirked to myself, my presence was simply irritating the silent man to the point of his pale face turning a shade of beet red. The Bard attempted to reach his hand out to touch the dangerous beasts at my side; a quick whistle from parted lips and the four of them stood at attention by my side.   
“Control the beasts!” The Witcher called out, his long sword unsheathing quickly. The blade ringing at the ready across the blocked path.   
The bard went quiet, his hand dropped to his side as he stepped back with wide blue eyes and flushed cheeks.   
“They do not like to be touched.” I said, my hands pulling my hood back slightly. More of my face exposed, the curious blue eyes of the scared man searching what little more of my face he could see.   
“You speak?” He asked, a small smile tugging on the edges of his lips. I nodded, again licking my cracked, dry lips aching in the heat.   
“I’ve heard many stories of you; none of them told of you speaking.” The Bard approached once more, I waved my hand towards my animals in an action to free them of their attacking stance. The four of them ran back to playing with each other.   
“My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.” He introduced with a deep bow; his arm sweeping across his midsection while his other arm reached around behind him.   
I stayed silent, then cast my eyes towards the Witcher who inhaled heavily. His chest broadening quickly, the cloth of his armor stretched over his massive chest.   
“Travel with us.” Julian offered after noticing how I watched the man behind him.   
“Sehan ausa nehel'feer. (Travel with them)” A voice rang through my head. I stood hesitantly despite the spirits order. Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, fresh memories of the first and last time I refused to listen to the spirits of the forest flew across my mind. I nodded quickly, releasing a heavy sigh I hadn’t realized clung tightly in my breast. I released an echoing whistle; in an instant, Kav was by my side. Her wiry fur sweeping through my fingers as I quickly mounted her back.   
“May I perhaps have a ride? I’m not in proper footwear-”  
“No.” I spat out before he could finish his sentence.   
Julian’s outstretched hands dropped to rub his legs as we walked towards the Witcher. His golden eyes scowling towards myself then the Bard. I lingered behind as we all walked together; my group growing in numbers. Julian had been inspired by his time captured by elves and the Witcher, so inspired with his new lute that his voice had begun to carry about with an exciting song about the small feat the two of them had just performed. I smiled to myself, the song was actually lovely. The sun above illuminating anything and everything around us, the blue sky cloudless without distractions as I rode next to the Witcher.   
I glanced to the silent man, he stared straight ahead. His lips were now more relaxed in comparison to his muscles clenched around the chestnut gelding, his shoulders flexing as he controlled his horse with ease. Our riding styles differed slightly; I never needed to use stirrups or a saddle while riding my wide beasts, the pouches of food and weapons were fastened around the front instead of behind me. I could ride easily without reins, the way to control my animals being by kicking my feet and tugging on their fur. The Witcher and I rode side by side, silently competing with each other to get to the next town, to get to the next beast.   
Arriving at the next town, an eerie silence lingered around the growing crowd of patrons as they watched us walk through the town. Talons scraping, hooves clopping, the bard speaking nonstop; the eyes of the townspeople were heavy and red with exhaustion. Shoulders of men tensed as they walked closer to us, horses whinnied in the distance; smells of shit and piss wafted through the wind that whipped around us harshly numbing the tip of my nose. The Witcher and I boarded our animals then went in two separate directions. The Bard followed me, talking all the way towards the inn; I would prefer to stay with my animals, however, Julian could not afford a room at the inn.   
“I’m going back to the stables.” I interrupted the incessant man.   
Julian went quiet, fiddling the cod metal key between his hands.   
“Why? It’s too cold to sleep in a barn.” He said, his feet shuffling among the creaking wood.   
“Wargs are quite warm.” I told him. My fingers readjusted my hood on my head before I headed back the way I had previously entered.   
“Then why buy me a room?” He asked, his blue eyes glimmering and glinting in the light of the fire.   
“Goodnight, Julian.” I said, turning to walk away.  
“Jaskier.” He corrected. I turned around to smile.  
“Goodnight, Jaskier.” I said once more walking away. Jaskier loudly called out a goodnight to me before I was welcomed by the silent, cold streets once more.   
Laying among my warm animals, the bitter cold replaced by the heat and insulation of the coarse fur surrounding me. Their expanding breaths press me closer to the other in a rocking motion helping lull me to sleep. The night was still as we all slept in a secure, safe ball. My weapons resting under heavy watch alongside my other precious items on the wooden stall door. The five of us alone again, relishing in the luxury and welfare of each others presence for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke the next morning, the sun gleaming on the particles of heavy dust floating before my tired eyes early in the morning. The silence of the foreign town was broken by the blacksmith's heavy hammer falling on metal while his forge burned at such an intensity I could feel the feverishness of the bright flames. Horses shoes clopped against the decaying cobblestone ground around the wealthier spots in the distance. Chickens clucked as their clawed feet kicked dirt behind them only to peck at anything that lay silent beneath the leaves. I could hear the entirety of the world while I lay still, watching the particles floating delicately in the air.   
A small, dark grey bird flapped its wings violently before landing with a bounce on the board above my stall. Its small head twitched back and forth, the small beady black eyes capturing the light as it watched me in the small room. I was frozen in place, staring at this tiny bird. Kav exhaled heavily next to me, the sudden deep noise spooking the bird. The long wings flapping with the gentle breeze to take it back into the early morning sky.   
Roosters around the town began to crow a few moments later; their loud cries raised Kav’s head. I smiled and patted her cheek. Her wiry fur coated in strands of hay.   
“How about a run?” I asked her. Her ears flashed towards me and her eyes twinkled in excitement. The two of us left the barn quietly leaving behind the other three members of my pack to watch my weapons.   
The sun had not begun to rise yet, shielding the two of us in darkness. We made our back to the edge of the solemn town at a steady trot; before us lay the wilderness, untamed in its vastness. Kav broke into a full gallop, her lungs expanding and pushing out my legs with every heavy breath she took, her quick legs carrying us into the tall grass of the field nearby. Her quick paws and talons pushed us farther away from the town. The grass around us moved as if it were waves in the sea; the cool wind combined with Kav’s speed causing a whistling as the blades of grass slapped and brushed against each other.  
Kav and I chased the night away; the morning sun finally arrived as we sat on a hill watching as the light of day altered everything around us. The secrets and viciousness of night dissipated from over my shoulder. Cries from the animals of the night changed into the roaring sounds of the animals that claimed the day. Nearby, Kav held her nose to a small hole, sniffing loudly then growling playfully. A smile blossomed across my lips; she began to dig, kicking the dirt under her and dirtying my wool covering further.   
“Kav.” I called, giggling.   
The large beast dug and grabbed a small animal; its small bones crunched and cracked as she devoured it quickly. I watched the sun rise again, silence swallowing me whole. Kav snorted, her ears lifted and she stood tall; her broad chest filling with air as her attention returned to the town. Lifted her head, she howled. A deep sound that reverberated through my bones, she was returning the call to the other wargs left behind. Kav stood waiting for a moment, eyes still focused on the town that was hardly visible now.   
She howled again; a higher sound that caught my attention. They hadn’t responded. I stood beside her, looking towards the call, an anxious feeling brewing in my stomach.   
“Let’s go.” I told her. We moved quickly again, pounding feet and aching lungs making towards my pack. We were within reach when Kav and I were taken from the left side. The force of an unseeable creature throwing me from her back and into the grass that swallowed me whole.   
Kav was on her feet again; growling and circling something I couldn’t find. My first instinct was to reach for my bow only to find my thigh bare of my quiver and the cool wood missing from my shoulder. Kav snapped, barking and pouncing onto the creature with messy gnashing jaws. Heavy grunts and cries rang through the air as I pushed my way through the thick blades of grass. My lips pursed into a whistle that rang out towards my other beasts.   
Kav had the beast pinned under her paw; the beast thrashed and screamed. It’s pale skin smoking from the rising sun, long, sharp fingers stabbing at my beast, it’s gleaming eyes dulling as Kav lowered her jaws around the creature's head. The grass around us whistled as the other wargs came to tear at the humanoid creature. Steaming flesh being thrown around the field; the roaring, high pitched screams muted as the beasts tore the Bruxa limb from limb and devoured the slender flesh that flexed over spindly, red muscles. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ghastly sight; the feminine head hung behind down with the jaw slacked revealing sharp white teeth behind grey lips.   
The four wargs worked as a team while they shredded the Bruxa as if it were a piece of parchment; they swallowed the flesh in an instant, their pink and spotted tongues lapping the blood that fell. Hod snapped at the young nameless wargs, teeth barred as his head hung low and his shoulders broad. The silver male tucked his tail between his hind legs in submission, the black female pinned her ears against her broad neck with a small growl rolling from her chest. I whistled again, a long deep sound that changed their stances as I approached.   
“Let’s go back into town, see what they have to offer.” Kav’s wet tongue lapped at my nose. I smiled as I patted her shoulder, mounting Hod so I could see the land around us.   
The tall grass now flat where I had been tossed, blood soaked into the soil creating a thick mud that clung to every available surface. The sun rose higher in the sky, the town clung to its exhausted demeanor. The townsfolk slumping around lazily doing their daily duties in silence apart from the noise their work made. The animals cried as they fled from the five of us as we made our way back into the stables to retrieve my weapons.   
“Good morning.” A tired, yawning voice said behind me.   
“Morning.” I replied. My hands secured my quiver along with my packs to the strap secured around the base of Hod’s neck.   
“Where is Geralt?” The bard asked. I inhaled sharply and shook my head.   
“That’s not my problem.” I turned to look at him.  
His eyes intently watching the wargs surrounding me, with every movement they took, Jaskier twitched uncomfortably. I chuckled as I realized he was unsure of what to think of massive beasts; they stood shoulder to shoulder with me, their heads lingering over mine at the right angle.   
“You’re afraid of the wargs?” I asked, moving towards Kav, her breath escaping her small nostrils and wafting my hair behind my shoulders. Jaskier scoffed, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled into a smile. He shuffled awkwardly to lean against the door of the stall which opened wider, throwing him off his balance and almost to the hay covered floor beneath us. I giggled as I patted the young wargs now focused on my palms.   
“Would you like to pet her?” I asked, my hand stroking the black rough fur on her ribs. Her head aimed at me but her eyes looked at the loud bard up and down cautiously.   
His brows shot up his forehead, a bright smile stretching his cheeks and lighting a sparkle in his eyes. Jaskier’s hand shot out to pet her, the black warg lifted her lip as a warning.   
“Not so fast.” I warned, slowly his movements. Jaskier dropped his hand, his smile drooping slightly.   
“Let her smell your hand first.” I instructed; taking his hand in mine, I stepped closer to him to bring his hand towards the beast. Her face softened, her ears flicking as she sniffed our hands. I removed my hand, allowing her to familiarize herself with Jaskier’s smell. The bard chuckled excitedly as the nameless animal licked his palm.  
“This is amazing.” He said, I whistled through my teeth for Hod to come closer.  
I smiled and giggled as he continued to allow her to lick his flesh. Hod’s body pressed against mine in a trusting stance, I pressed back into his side with a smile and a pleased pat to his neck. Jaskier looked at me, his blue eyes twinkling as if he were a child surrounded by sweets.   
“What’s her name?” He asked, the wargs eyes less attentive and more relaxed. She licked her lips, her head lifting to begin to lick his cheeks and nose.   
“She does not have one yet. Naming ceremonies only occur in Myomel after she has completed her training.” I told him.   
“Myomel?” Jaskier questioned, his eyes closed as the black warg stepped closer to continue wetting his face.   
“My home.” Glancing out the window, the visage of my father smiling at me faded with the wind, a strange feeling stung my heart; I quickly looked back to Jaskier who was happily laughing as he stroked the fur on the black wargs cheek.   
“Her fur feels so rough.” He stated.   
I nodded in agreement and rested my head on Hod’s neck, the leather strap around the base of his throat tugging slightly at my hood.   
“Do all your people wear hoods?” Jaskier asked.   
“Apart from elders, yes.” I informed him while adjusting my wool cloak.   
“Why don’t elders wear hoods?” He asked turning away from the warg. Stepping between them, he stretched his hand out to Hod. I rewarded the black warg with red dragons breath as I spoke.   
“They have earned their positions.” Hod allowed the excited bard to stroke his face down to his neck. The older, experienced warg enjoying the feeling of appreciation. Jaskier and I spoke for sometime about my people and how we lived, he swallowed the information with glee and excitement.   
“Not many people have so much information about your people.” He said, turning to me with a brilliant light behind his eyes.   
The sun had risen higher in the sky, the day now approaching its peak. My wargs had had their fill earlier in the day, but I had not; my stomach growled and rumbled beneath the skin. Sighing, I smiled.   
“I’m going to eat.” Turning to walk from the stables, Jaskier followed, attempting to hum an unfamiliar tune. He was creating a song, a song about the unknown people of Myomel. The town was an overwhelming grey, the sun did little to light the unexciting town. The dull color extended from the mud on the ground to the members that inhabited it. Everything was mute, dull, boring; nothing bolder than the three newcomers who were simply passing through.   
However, outside of the edge of the town, everything was bright, alive, vibrant. It seemed as though this place appeared to be where anything went to die; any resemblance of life dulling and eventually fading from the world outside. I sat across from the bard, he spoke endlessly; his words strangely brightening the small room only lit by a single fire in the corner. His excited attitude brought white light through the windows banishing out the shadows that loomed over us.   
“Do your people only eat vegetables and fruit?” Jaskier asked, his elbows resting on the table as he leaned forwards to look at my plate. I sighed, growing tired and agitated at the incessant talking and questioning.   
“Yes, we do not eat meat apart from ceremonies.”   
“What kind of ceremonies?”   
I stuffed my mouth with potatoes and carrots while I eyed him from beneath my hood. The fraying edges blurring the sight of the top of his face. Chewing and swallowing, I moved to answer.   
“Weddings, naming’s, birth.”   
“Did you get a naming ceremony?” He asked. I nodded, opening my mouth for the sweet fruit.   
“What is your name?” Jaskier asked. His arms falling flat to the table as he dropped and tilted his head to try and look at my face. I turned to look out the window.   
“We do not share our names.” I stood quickly and made my way out of the room. My hand tossing a small silver coin at the man behind the bar. The coin rattled against the wood while it rolled and tossed. My stomach was hardly full, my wargs could sense the emptiness approaching. The beasts in the barn rested as I approached; their ears perking, their eyes opening then dropping as they licked their lips.   
In the stall next to them was the Witcher; white hair half done up after being brushed carefully. His hands tugged on his saddle roughly; the leather squeaking slightly as it rubbed against itself. We stayed silent as we both prepared our animals for another day. The silver warg lifted his head, resting it on the edge of the stall towards the Witcher next to me.   
“Keep your beasts in your stall.” His gruff voice said as he tugged on the pouch near the hock of the chestnut gelding. Scoffing, I lifted my brows.   
“She smells something.” I told him.   
“If she does not want to lose her nose,” He began, turning to face me with his brows stitched together and his lips in the familiar tight line, “she should move it.”   
I stepped forwards, placing my arms over the barrier between the two stalls.   
“You would die if you tried.” The Witcher inhaled deeply, his chest broadening. The cold leather of his armor pressing into the skin of my hands as he moved quickly to remove my hood.   
“Warg Rider.” He snarled, holding the hood to my shoulder blade.   
“Witcher.” I spat back at him, teeth barred while my beasts watched carefully waiting for the whistle to attack and tear him limb from limb.   
“Move your beast.”   
“Move your hand.” Our eyes locked; gold against blue, out of the corner of my eye was a flash of light. I could not break the challenge, I could not allow the Witcher to be the victor once more. My nostrils flared for a moment as I licked my lips.   
“Geralt?” Jaskier called, his voice nearing the door of the stables.   
The Witcher released my hood, I tugged it up quickly over my head once more shielding my face from the sight of anyone else. The gleeful footsteps of the bard approached through the sloppy mud that slapped as he ran into the hay of the stables. The Witcher resumed his dictatorial heaves on the withering leather straps.   
“Geralt, where have you been?” Jaskier asked, I ignored their meaningless conversation by looking out the window to find the blinding light that flitted by.   
“What do you want, Bard?” The Witcher spat. Jaskier approached with his sputtering nonsense.   
“The people here are plagued by- oh, what did they say it was?” Jaskier groaned as he struggled to remember the name of the monster. The light flitted passed the window again, catching my attention.   
“It lives in the abandoned castle; the townspeople said it ate its mother.” Geralt paused, tilting his head to look at the forgetful bard.   
I rushed out of the stall; the wooden door opening behind me as my animals followed behind me. Hod shook his head as we looked towards the field reflecting the sun with every wave of joy from the gentle cooling wind. Patting his shoulder blade, I wet my lips. They could not see the spirits, only sense them; this was no ordinary spirit, a gleaming ball of light.   
“What are you doing?” Jaskier asked, his head close to mine to see what I was looking at. My hand shot out and secured his throat against my palm.   
“This does not concern you, Jaskier.” Jaskier nodded rapidly; his blue eyes wide and his hands around my wrist. I could feel him swallow before I pushed him back then mount Hod; the wind whipping across my cheeks as I searched for the spirit.   
This was the spirit father told me of, the first spirit of the forest that bore everything as we knew it. We ran after the spirit; galloping feet pounding into the pine needles on the forest floor, panting breaths that spurred our sides, the light circled bases of the trees and climbed to the tips of the leaves then fell back down to the ground below. The light paused ahead, the two young wargs continuing their chase passed the sphere that exuded a feeling, a pulse point. Hod skidded beneath me; as he leaned back, I was launched forwards to grab around his neck. The handle of my sword scrapping harshly against my ribs, Hod turned and stood still as we regained our footing.   
Dismounting hesitantly, I made my way to the first spirit. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it; it seemed to lengthen before my eyes.   
“Lenna n'e lle cam. (Stretch out your hand)” A mangled voice commanded while I stood nearby examining the light. It was somehow flat, yet spherical; it was every shape while having no defining shape. I swallowed then extended my hands underneath the light. The light fell onto my flesh; in an instant, I was swallowed by the blinding rays. My arms fell heavy while still feeling weightless. I couldn’t help but feel a joy growing in my chest, warmth spreading through my veins as the spirit stole me away from the world.   
Everything was empty, pure as the newly fallen snow; the trees above waving gently against the summer breeze. Before me, stood the first spirit; long black hair that protruded and cascaded down his front from beneath his hood which covered his face.   
“Sina naa i' men things nae e' i' beginnien. (This is the way things were in the beginning)” He said, his voice distorted and augmented, moving like a river as he spoke. His long fingers rested against my palms while he looked up; his hood falling away from his face to reveal sharp green eyes with flakes of grey about them. His pale skin contrasting with his dark eyebrows that stretched to his temples; his thin pink lips stretched as he spoke.   
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his visage; the unspeakable beauty before me, why me. He looked up to the green tree tops that faded. The leaves fell, brushed away in a moment leaving behind bare branches. The trees groaned and cracked, most collapsing around us.   
“Maa pelu. (Look around)” The ground was wet with black sludge, screams of monsters and humans alike filled the air, grey ash fell consistently from the sky to cover the trees that had fallen nearby and to rest upon my shoulder. My heart filled with agony, sadness, and rage; I looked back to him, his skin a sickly grey lined with creases and red eyes that pronounced the green that had faded.   
“Mani marte?(What happened)” I asked. My voice a harsh murmur against the hot wind from the East and the frozen wind blowing from the West.   
“Sina naa mani nauva Nilfgaard sana val. (This is what will be should Nilfgaard take power)” He replied.   
His hands wrapped around my wrists as he clutched me closer; my brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden action. His face was millimeters from my own, his breath was neither cold nor hot, present and lingering yet dissipating and vanishing.   
“Stay yassen i' witcher. (Stay with the Witcher)” He commanded. I nodded slowly, his grip only tightening around my wrists.   
“N'at spirits nyare amin a' evade i' witcher. (Other spirits told me to evade the Witcher)” I informed him; I couldn’t look away, his magic held our eyes together, glued our sights together.   
“Amin naa qhuagi, i' yeste' fea. Lasta il- a' n'at spirits nan' a' amin. Amin uma il- show amin a' i' unworthy. (I am Qhuagi, the first spirit. Listen not to other spirits but to me. I do not show myself to the unworthy)” He spat pulling me closer by my wrists.   
“Amin naa i' reason lle naa sinome. (I am the reason you are here.)” The memory came flooding to me; the bright light, falling through the trees near a warg sighting.   
“Lle? mankoi amin?(You? Why me?)” I asked, causing him to lean back and inhale.   
“Lle ume il- belong eller. Lle belong sinome. (You did not belong there. You belong here)” He replied, his tone softer now as his thumbs soothed the skin.   
I shook my head in disbelief.   
“Lle caela sai- um-. Sii' auta. (You have much to do. Now go)” He said. Opening my eyes, I was surrounded on all sides by my wargs who sniffed carefully to ensure my health. I lifted myself slowly; Hod’s large head sliding beneath my elbow to pull me to my feet. The first spirits' words rushed into my mind as I held Hod’s cheeks.   
“We’re going to need more Wargs.” I glanced at the two nameless, young beasts who watched carefully, waiting patiently for my next action.   
“We need to have a ceremony.” I told them.   
Attempting to take a step, my knee buckled and I fell before them. Hod exhaled and lurched forwards, his nose bumping against my shoulder blades. My hands glowed a bright white that dulled as it entered my skin and rested beneath the skin through my veins, running with my blood. Hod helped me to my feet once more, Kav’s wet nose helped push my leg over as I rested on Hod’s back. The five of us once more alone; nothing greater than a rider and their beasts. The young silver male licked at the back of my hand.   
With a small kick, the five of us were off again to find the Witcher and the Bard. Fleeting paws and talons that carried us at great speeds. Above, a crow called, it’s wings struggling to carry it at the same speed. A large carriage was crossing the road, open in the back revealing a small woman with a curved back and short black hair. Purple eyes caught my attention once we had come closer. The young woman leaned forwards, her brows furrowed as she called out to me.   
“Warg Rider!”   
Beneath me, Hod lifted his head to unleash a guttural howl that carried across the land to the fleeting cart. The five of us had returned to the town to find the Witcher gone without Jaskier.   
“Warg Rider!” Jaskier called, his lute bouncing against his shoulder blade.   
“Where is the Witcher?” I asked down to him. He shook his head and pointed towards the East.   
“Do you know how to ride?” Jaskier furrowed his brows. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed his collar and pulled him behind me. Hod growled beneath me, his shoulders rolling in anger.   
“Ere' sina coiasira. (Only this time)” I told Hod. Jaskier’s hands wrapped around my waist while his head rested against my shoulder.   
“Sorry, did you say something?” He quipped as I kicked the warg under me.   
While running, I released a long rolling whistle for the other wargs. Kav snapped at the black warg who attempted to take charge in finding the Witcher’s scent. The three of them galloped ahead while we lingered behind; they spread out in all separate directions, their noses in the sky or on the ground below. Jaskier tightened his grip around my waist as we galloped further into the wilderness. The black warg shattered a tree as she made her way through the forest to return to my side. In her mouth was a small black pouch with his scent; strong, too strong. I cursed as I sent her forwards again.   
“He knows we’re following him.” I told Jaskier behind me. He made a small sigh as if to speak; I didn’t let him have the chance as I squeezed Hod’s sides making him gallop faster than before.   
The distance between my beasts and I dissipated, calloused paws and long claws tearing into the flesh of the earth as we galloped across an open field. The sky above us was open with litterings of eggshell clouds dancing across the soft blue air, the grass around us tried to hold us in place. Jaskier rolled his head, looking around at everything passing by at breakneck speed. Far off in the distance, the silver male howled, a deep howl that echoed across the waters, the hills and into the field where we ran. The three wargs I had sent to find a scent now joined next to us; growling and snarling, teeth snapping and gnashing. The six of us chased the scent as the sun began to fade behind the mountains.   
The air around us thickened with the smell of the Witcher, his blood and his strong medicines that burned and singed my eyes. Stopping at the crest of the hill, we surveyed the area below; vast in its expansion, green covering everything the eye could see.   
“Are we stopping for the night? I feel quite nauseous.” Jaskier said, his tongue wetting his lips.   
“Not until we find the Witcher.” I responded, my eyes searching every sliver of land I could see.   
“What about beasts in this area? Without Geralt-”   
“I’m a beast tamer, we have no need for Geralt.” I interrupted. Kav snarled at Jaskier, her lip curling to reveal her aged teeth; I smirked at the sight before sniffing once more. The soft smell of burning leaves and small twigs, the Witcher had made his camp in the woods.   
“Even tamed beasts can fight back.” Jaskier said, adjusting his seating on the large Warg.   
“Perhaps you would like to walk?” I questioned. Jaskier shook his head quickly, his chin shriveling as he denied the offer.   
“A thicker beast perhaps.” Chuckling, I dismounted Hod.   
“Wha-”   
“You ride alone.” I told him, patting Hod on the shoulder and giving him orders to deliver Jaskier to the Witcher in the woods.   
Kav and I stood resting besides each other for a moment, then it was a race; who could find the Witcher faster. Kav and I were being closely followed by the two young wargs who yipped and chirped excitedly.   
“This is horrible!” Jaskier yelled as I passed him quickly.   
“Grab between the shoulders, squeeze with your heels!” I responded. Kav sniffed, taking a sharp right turn between two thick trees that smacked Jaskier in the cheek as Hod followed. I laughed as we ran through the woods following the fresh smell of smoke. Jumping down into the creek, cold water splashed across my face and wet my cloak as we approached the Witcher speaking to his horse.   
“Witcher!” I yelled dismounting.   
Leaning against a fallen log, his legs crossed as he sniffled for a moment and watched me.   
“Where is the Bard?”   
“The spirit of the Forest came to me, he showed me what the future holds.”   
“There is no spirit of the Forest. Those are children's stories made up to soothe nightmares.”  
“He showed me the world will fall to ash should Nilfgaard take power.”   
“Nilfgaard has a strong army.”  
“Everything will die. Including you.”  
“Then what do you expect me to do?” He yelled, sitting up closer to the fire. Jaskier approached finally figuring out how to slow the racing beast. His feet failed him and he fell onto his back after attempting to dismount as I did.   
“Gods! That was horrible.” Jaskier panted, The Witcher and I stared at each other in the soft light of the fire nearest him.   
“I say you get off your ass and help me.” I kneeled by the fire as I spoke.   
“Oh, so you have a plan.” The Witcher said leaning back once more, his lips tight in anger.   
Shaking my head, I licked my lips.   
“We need to create a plan. Do we know anything about them? Gather information.” Geralt sighed heavily, he took to his feet to walk to his horse tied close by to a tree.   
“Nilfgaard is no threat.”  
“As of yet.”  
“Or ever.” The Witcher retorted. His shoulders turning towards me, his hand tightly gripping the leather strap of his pack.   
“The spirit-”  
“There is no spirit!” He yelled, the veins in his neck throbbing as he pulled the pack clean from the rest of the leather. Hod snapped his jaws, growling low in his chest besides Jaskier, his head hanging low as his muscles tensed. Kav snarled, her shoulder tensing as I stepped closer to her. My quiver close to my hand and the cold wood of my bow ready to be pulled in defense.   
The Witcher watched the beasts as they sunk to the ground preparing for a fight to the death. The chestnut horse reared into the air, neighing and shaking his head against the slender rope beneath his chin. The Witcher dropped his pouch to reach for his sword. In an instant, my bow was secured in my hand with an arrow pointed at the center of his forehead.   
“We’ve killed Witcher’s before.” The shimmering blade was exposed now, as ready for a fight as we were.   
“I’ve killed Warg riders before.” My nostrils flared; I could not kill out of any emotion, only of necessity.   
“Go ahead and try.” I stated. The young silver male snapped his jaws besides Jaskier, his eyes aimed for the Witcher’s throat.   
The Witcher stepped forwards, closer to the young black warg who’s jaws snapped and chomped with saliva.   
“One more step.” I warned, my bow still fixated on his forehead.   
“Call off your beasts.”   
“Put away your sword.” I demanded. The Witcher tightened his grip around the handle. I turned my bow away to the chestnut gelding secured to the tree and loosened my arrow. The thin rope snapped, releasing the frightened horse that galloped through the woods with fading hoofbeats. I rested my bow by my side in an attempt of peace.   
“Put away your sword, Witcher.” I said, my tone softer now.   
“Call off your wargs.” He spat, his teeth tight together.   
With a single whistle, the four beasts ran past us and into the forest after the poor horse.   
“That was tense.” Jaskier chuckled, his hands resting on his knees. I smirked at him beneath my wool hood. The three of us sat around the fire listening to Jaskier’s telling of his first and only warg ride through the wilderness. The Witcher swallowed his drink then held his cup between his hands, his massive arms resting on his matching thighs.   
“You owe me a horse.”  
“Buy one with the coin you stole from me.” I said as I stoked the fire to press the embers into the ground below.   
“Where?” He asked, his temper rising once more.   
“Myomel.” I replied.   
Jaskier inhaled sharply with an excited gasp. The Witcher sat staring into my eyes with his lips in a small smile. The flesh not truly pulling against itself to reveal any teeth or brightness in the eyes.


	5. 5

When I was younger, I ran through woods not too far South of here; it was my first run alone with Hod before his naming ceremony. His face was a more consistent color and his teeth were whiter with a pup like attitude. My swords were my only weapons; in my childish wisdom, Hod and I galloped through the woods carelessly. Hod’s young, untrained, mind brought his focus to prey, discarding me in the process. I was rolled into a sacred tree circle where nothing would grow, where no leaves fell, where no animals dared go.  
Father had warned me of this place, of its viscous protector; a large guardian with a tail that would wrap around you to squeeze the life from your lungs. A hideous beast with four arms, a jaw that dangled as he shook his head; his weapon of choice was a scythe he used to cleanly cut the trees from their stalks as he chased you. His six black eyes could find you better than any hawk from the same height. He was told to tower over the circle, waiting for unbelievers to attempt to enter this circle.  
There I sat, panting as I looked around for Hod; my throat clenched, keeping me from calling his name as I spun to search the crowded woods for him; once more, I was a lost child. Tears blurred my vision as I reached for the cloth covered handles of my swords. The metal rang out as they left their bone sheathes from beside my hips. I circled, turning endlessly, waiting for the guardian to slither his tail. Leaves would rustle catching my attention to my left, then to my right, only to repeat. The guardian was toying with me; he could smell the fear drowning my lungs.  
I ran towards one side of the circle, my moccasins scattering the sacred dirt from its holy place. A tree dropped from the heavens above. The branches shattered, splinters of every size piercing nearby wood. I leapt over the tree, fleeing for my life while whistling rapidly for my young warg. A rattle sounded, similar to a child’s plaything. Trees bellowed as they fell, their winds knocking me to the ground. My swords still in my shaking palms, I searched for the guardian.  
I listened closely for the sound of his tail slithering amongst the leaves like wind. The weight of his body damaged the earth, tearing into it as he combed through the trees for me. His rattling tail wrapped itself around my ankles, his sharp scales cutting through the leather around them to burrow into my skin as he lifted me. We stared at each other, his jaw bounced while his tongue wagged; a punishment from the spirit of the woods for his greed. I crunched towards his tail and stabbed between the scales.  
The roar bellowed through his gaping mouth, the bleeding tail uncoiling then falling to the forest floor below taking me with it. I screamed as I fell, my limbs flailing to latch onto anything. Hitting the ground, my vision dulled as I was left bleeding from my remaining sword that stabbed through my left shoulder. I could only watch as the guardian took up his scythe and slithered back to the sacred circle.  
Hod found me, his whimpers and stomping feet thickening the thread that clung me to life. My young beast had dragged me to Myomel, the safety beneath the yellowing trees an immediate forcefield to the world around us. Hod stayed by my side as I healed over the years; we both grew larger and wiser in gathering years. I was young, inexperienced then; inattentive to the stories my people shared. I went in search of the guardian many years later, only to find my sword, still coated in thick blood beside the decaying, fallen tree just outside the circle.  
The memory clung to my brain while we looked on through the woods close to Myomel. Hod’s hair stood on edge as the two young wargs lept around the woods gleefully playing with each other. Kav walked behind me escorting Jaskier who held a cautious hand to her shoulder. A loud call echoed around the woods; the call lifting at the end questioning my heading. I responded, two lingering whoops at the end to inform them of my destination. The silver warg paused before the crouching black female, his ears forwards with his paw lifted. He looked towards me, his head lifted in a howl that erupted into smoke.  
“What is he doing?” Jaskier asked, still walking with an obedient hand on my beast. I smiled as we closed in on the gates; two soldiers readying their swords and bow.  
“Ya auta eller? (Who goes there)” A familiar voice asked, staring beneath his helmet at the overeager bard and the unexcited Witcher.  
“Mankoi uma question, calanon?(Why do you question, Calanon)” I dismounted to welcome my childhood friend once more.  
“Ya uma lle brien?(Who do you bring?)” Calanon demanded, his swords aimed behind me at the foreigners with uncovered faces.  
“Y' Lindar ar' i' witcher. (A bard and the Witcher)” I watched his face tense, his lips turned to white steel as his guard firmed.  
Placing a hand on his elbow, I moved closer to him.  
“Ron naa n'uma threat.(They are no threat)” I whispered.  
“Witcher's Ndengina lye gwaith. (Witcher’s kill our kind.)” He exclaimed, stepping closer.  
“Il- sina er.(Not this one)” I murmured. Calanon shook his elbow to rid my hand.  
“Amin owe ho y' winya roch. (I owe him a new horse)”  
“Sana ta ar' auta. (Take it and go)” Calanon snapped. His black eyes glanced at me now. Furrowing my brows, I nodded and made my way inside. Stopping before being seen, I turned to the men and my wargs.  
“Hod, E' ale'quel. (In front); Kav, behind.” The experienced beasts stood behind me and behind the Witcher and the Bard while the two nameless animals stayed on the sides to shield my people of their presences.  
“Do not speak, Bard.” I demanded.  
Jaskier looked around, the smile never leaving his mouth.  
“Manka ro quena, sakkata ho apart. (If he speaks, tear him apart)” I informed my wargs. Jaskier looked at me and I covered his mouth.  
“If you speak, my wargs will shred you. Limb from limb.” I glanced to the Witcher who stood with his arms by his sides and his disdain plastered permanently to his face.  
“And they might take you with them.”  
We walked slowly through the town, many of the children excitedly jumping onto the fence to watch as we returned. I smiled as two hooded children took my hands to walk with me, offering some wolfbane to Hod who sneezed from the smell.  
“Er re, amin nauva y' warg rider. (One day, I will be a warg rider)” The child tugged on my elbow as he spoke, his hood nearly falling from his jumping. I chuckled and picked him up.  
“Sut uma a're tyava?(How does today feel)” I asked, placing him gently on Hod’s back. The boy's smile brightened as he bounced around the mature beast. His small hands curling in his mane while his small feet hardly stretched over the sides of his ribs. The other child was content speaking nearly as much as Jaskier was used to. Jaskier would open his mouth to speak, Kav would lift her lip, her eyes darkening.  
More familiar cloaks stepped by the road, their animals rejoicing with wagging tails, howls, or roars. We walked along the dirt road, yellow leaves falling to rest on the ground around us; the city of Myomel was quiet as usual, whispers from townsfolk and sounds of our beasts, laughing of the children as they ran beside me. Geralt hummed between my beasts and Jaskier, the man longing to speak and shout and sing of his new adventures in the undiscovered city. The child had long since abandoned the ride of my Wargs, their backs an uncomfortable ride in the beginning; a thing you must learn to tolerate then perhaps, if you’re lucky, enjoy.  
I approached my father’s house, the dark beams of the wood striking against the bright white light of the sun. The dyed red door opening with a creak, my father stepped out; his hair now bound in plaits that fell onto his chest from beneath his hood. A bright smile lit up my eyes as I ran into his welcoming arms.  
“Atar!” I exclaimed happily. He chuckled as he held me close to him, the smell of cedar from the trees and honeysuckle from his potions cleared my mind for the moment.  
“Atar, Amin caela somethien Amin caela nyar- lle.(Father, I have something I have to tell you.)” My smile faded, and fear filled my breast.  
“Naa ta i' witcher? Amin caela been watchien lle e' amin kaimela. (Is it the Witcher? I’ve been watching you in my dreams.)” He said, his hand grasping onto mine and tugging me down towards my wargs.  
I nodded in silence.  
“Atar, sina naa jaskier. Ro naa y' Lindar. (Father, this is Jaskier. He is a bard.)” Father pushed the young black warg aside, to get a closer look at the bright clothes of the bard. His hands tugging at the hem of his jacket and vest, his fingers strummed the strings of his lute as he circled him in silence.  
“Sina naa il- i' witcher. (This is not the Witcher)” Father said. I chuckled and shook my head; the Witcher standing next to him watched my fathers movements carefully, his golden eyes lingering on his hood.  
“N'uma. I' edan yassen i' nim loske naa i' witcher.(No. The man with the white hair is the Witcher)” I corrected; father sighed with a small smile and turned to look at the Witcher, searching him up and down.  
“Do not touch me.” The Witcher demanded. His harsh tone lifted the anger of my wargs.  
I whistled, calling them to my side.  
“You waste your breath, Witcher. My father does not know the common tongue.” I informed him. Jaskier sighed a heavy breath of relief being allowed the freedom to speak.  
“It’s beautiful. Everyone wears their hoods, as you said. I have yet to see any elders, though, I would very much like to meet them.” I shook my head with a small smile.  
“You will see some elders at the naming.” Both men looked at me, watched me, waiting for something to happen.  
“I am very hungry, so might we skip the pleasantries and get some food?” Jaskier asked, moving towards the door. Father’s large beast stood on its hind legs before the door, its front paws dangling as it roared deeply. Father lifted his hand, waving it lazily as he walked in the direction of the barn. His large beast followed him as he went past us.  
Jaskier stood with wide eyes as he looked at me once more; I couldn’t help but chuckle as Jaskier practically ran towards me for help.  
“We have a routine in Myomel. Putting away the animals, then foraging and farming for our food.” My wargs ran excitedly towards their stalls.  
“Do you eat meat?” The Witcher asked in his gruff voice as we followed behind my father. I shook my head at his gruff intrusion of our lives.  
“No. Only our beasts eat meat.” I answered, closing the stall doors behind my beasts who had their noses deep in their feed.  
“Why is that?” Jaskier questioned, looking around the barn at the farming tools that clinked against the wall.  
“Some animals can not live without meat, we can. The spirits have told us to spare innocent lives if we can help it.” I responded, my hands steadying the tools. The Witcher sighed heavily, his fists bawled as he brooded near the door of the barn.  
“When will I get my horse you owe me?” The Witcher asked. I lifted my brows as I turned to him slowly.  
“The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow is for a naming celebration.” I told him.  
We sat around the table in silence while the fire crackled nearby. Our spoons clattered gently around the bowls of vegetable stew and broth.  
“Atar, lle said lle nae watchien amin imya lle kaimela?(Father, you said you were watching me through your dreams)” I questioned. Father nodded, swallowing his mouthful of steaming stew.  
“I' spirits sent amin sights en' lle. Ar' i' witcher. Never i' Lindar. (The spirits sent me visions of you. And the Witcher. Never the Bard)” He said. I could tell he wanted me to look into his light brown eyes, see what he was seeing.  
“Amin omente i' yeste' fea.(I met the first spirit)” I informed my father. He dropped his spoon, staring up at me with the fire’s glow licking at his cheeks and chin.  
Father swallowed deeply, his tongue poking out to lap at his bottom lip.  
“Mani ume ro quena en'?(What did he speak of)” The Witcher sitting next to me stirred his stew in silence, golden eyes flickering like stray flames; Jaskier sat on my right, devouring his stew with fervour while watching my father and I speak in our foreign tongue beneath our hoods.  
“Ro nyare amin en' y' ohta tanya will destroy i' palurin vee' lye sinta ta. Niflgaard will sakkata lye ndor apart.(He told me of a war that will destroy the world as we know it. Niflgaard will tear our land apart.)” Father placed his elbows on the table, nimble hands intertwining together as he bowed his head and mumbled prayers under his breath.  
“Atar, i' fea nyare amin a' stay yassen i' witcher. (Father, the spirit told me to stay with the Witcher)” Father continued praying, his words growing louder. I sighed and licked my lips, leaning back in my chair while rolling my head slightly.  
“What’s he doing?” Jaskier asked, his face leaning closer to my hood. I put my hand out in a gesture to silence him until father finished his prayer.  
Father continued his prayer of thanks and begged for mercy against the coming war then finished a while later as the three of us looked on in a ringing silence.  
“Uma vee' i' fea says. Mani ume ro maa ve'?(Do as the spirit says. What did he look like?)” He asked, resuming his eating. I licked my lips after finishing my bowl while he prayed, dropping my spoon in the bowl with a wooden clatter then told him of the whole experience.  
“Ale' ro hyarya, amin cam nae kalye.(After he left, my hands were illuminated)” I said, my palms facing the ceiling then turning as I told him.  
“Ro one lle ho templa.(He gave you his magic)” Father was breathless for a moment, I feared the worst; perhaps the spirits would flood him in this second, his face would be revealed, and I would be helpless to stop the possession. Father was my greatest concern; as his jaw began to tremble, it was happening.  
“Get out! Both of you!” I demanded, rushing to my father’s side as his head dropped and his hood fell to rest on the back of his shoulders.  
Jaskier and the Witcher sat watching as spirits nestled themselves inside my fathers soul.  
“Then look away, damn you!” I shouted. My fathers hand in mine, shaking and shivering as if he had been sitting in the winter snow.  
“Ro one lle ho templa. Magha ta.(He gave you his magic. Use it.)” My fathers voice crumbled as he struggled to speak. Father dropped my hand to pull my cheek to look at him. His brown eyes blown into a light green that covered the entire eye.  
“Amin hin.(My child)” The spirit murmured. Jaskier had respectfully cast his eyes aside while the Witcher stared at us. His face was straight as he watched, as if we were actors in a play.  
My fathers hand pushed back my hood, my face was revealed to the spirit before me.  
“Lle naa il- en' sina palurin.(You are not of this world)” I nodded at the spirit, the fact far too familiar to myself and my father.  
“Am', i' yeste' fea brought lle sinome knowien lle gurtha protectien sina ndor. Knowien lle fight alongside i' witcher.(Yet, the first spirit brought you here knowing you would die protecting this land. Knowing you would fight alongside the Witcher)” My father looked at the white haired, silent Witcher.  
“Geralt of Rivia,” He began, “You do not believe in the spirit's existence. Know this; we watched you in the woods as a child as your mother left you to fetch a pail of water.” I rushed to my feet to cover his face, conceal his identity; the Witcher’s lips pursed, his shoulders tensed and Jaskier turned his head slightly.  
“How do you know of this?” The Witcher growled, beginning to shake with rage.  
The spirit chuckled, his green eyes blinking, his feet shuffling as he leaned back in his chair. My fathers voice began to distort, change, altered by the powerful spirit he channeled.  
“I was there.” The voice echoed as it spat the information at the Witcher. The bold man shot to his feet, his fist clenched at his sides. The Witcher growled, staring at my father. Waving his hand as he chuckled, the Witcher was sent flying back into the wall where he was stuck by magic.  
“You can not hurt the spirit’s people.” I stepped back towards the heat of the fire, Jaskier watched the Witcher as he attempted to fight against the magical hold.  
“Sii' hin, utua i' edainme meant aut- a' nilfgaard.(Now child, find the woman meant to go to Nilfgaard)” My fathers body said, looking at me with green eyes.  
“Manke uma amin yesta?(Where do I begin?)” I asked.  
I was afraid of the power shown by the spirit, my back pressed into the stone of the hearth, my heart surging beneath my breast, my lungs burning as I forgot to breathe. The spirit used my fathers face to smile as he told us of an underground teaching place for the gifted women.  
“Aretuza.” The word escaped his lips like a whisper as the spirit left him. My fathers head dropped behind him and the Witcher fell from the wall. I ran to my father’s side with wide eyes, grabbing his hands and holding his cheek as he slowly regained consciousness. The Witcher rushed over, his hands grabbing at my father’s cloak.  
“How did you know that?” The Witcher shouted. I pushed the white haired man away from my frightened father who fell back into his chair with his hands reaching for his weapons.  
“He doesn’t know anything, Witcher! He does not understand what you’re saying.” The Witcher and I yelled over each other while Jaskier watched the entire scene.  
“Mani ume i' fea say?(What did the spirit say)” Father asked behind my shoulder, his longbow ready to fire a quick arrow at the loud man before me.  
“Ro quene en' i' witcher's past.” I said, my shoulders tensed as I stood between the two men, prepared to fight either of them or perhaps both.  
Blood rushed loudly through everyone’s ears, the three of us yelling at each other, demanding different things. I stood facing the window, the darkness of night taking over the world outside. I closed my eyes, clamping them shut tightly in an attempt to block out the men surrounding me. My hands stretched out, light scattering the room in a flash then dispersing. The room fell deathly quiet save for the crackling and snapping of the fire. I looked towards my father, his bow now resting by his side while his opposite hand held the arrow by the thin wooden shaft. Father was quiet beneath his hood, his breathing was steady; I looked towards my traveling party, Jaskier had been watching, observing my face with wide blue eyes and a slack jaw. I looked towards the Witcher, his white hair blown behind his broad shoulders, his golden eyes softer now as the three men waited for something.  
“Enough yelling.” I said, I panted questioning what I had done with a wave of my hand.  
“Atar, lye caela y' namien e' i' amrun.(Father, we have a naming in the morning)” I stated, looking at him and slowly lifting my wool hood.  
“Atta.(Two)” Father corrected, his hands replacing his bow in its proper place.  
I nodded slowly, exhaustion taking hold.  
“Uma, Atta.(Yes, two)” Father rushed about the small home, searching for his book of names. I wanted to sit at the table, to rest my eyes until the morning woke the earth but I could not; instead, I washed the bowls and spoon and waited for father to find his books.  
“What happened?” Jaskier asked as Geralt sat next to him and relaxed in the chair; the wood squealed as it adjusted under his weight. Inhaling sharply, I shook my head.  
“I don’t know, Jaskier.” Father rushed around the corner, his arms full with thick books in every color, bound in dyed leathers with golden or silver writings.  
“Amin dethole lle essa tuulo' sina sai- parma.(I chose your name from this very book)” Before me was a blue book with golden letters worn from use; Father and I smiled.  
The memory of father flipping through the pages as I sat next to him while he called out different names then looked at me before shaking his head. I would play with his beasts as he would call out different words that I never responded to. I was picking bright, colorful flowers the day I responded to a name. Gleefully turning around to search for my father with armfuls of blooms from the garden outside; father was watching through the window with a smile that beamed with kindness. Now, I sat retracing the lines of where his fingers once stroked for hours. The writing was black against the worn pages, stains of tea or stew littered and bled through some of them. The names and their meanings did not stick out to me, only the fond memories behind them. Flipping through the pages, I searched and found few that clung to my brain but one that rang out like a bell of clarity. Putting the blue book to the side, I spent the remainder of the night searching through the other books while my father helped Jaskier and the Witcher to their rooms.  
I searched book after book, the only name I found standing out to me the most in the dark of night. Exhaustion clung to my shoulders and eventually began to tug on my eyelids. I closed them for a moment, resting my head against the crook of my elbow. My fingers slipping through the pages absentmindedly. At sometime in the night, the fire dies out to rest as well, it’s embers dying in the cool morning that absorbed the darkness throughout the world. Outside the window, the beasts were released from their stalls; their cries pulled me from my sleep. I sat up slowly, observing the mess I had made during the night after whatever happened.  
Only two books were open; the purple book with the thick, black spine crossed with light brown laces and golden ink and the blue book. The purple book was closer towards the end pages, the last names; the blue blue was open directly in the middle, equal amounts of names going in both directions. I smiled at the names that gleamed backed in white light.


	6. 6

Stepping into the bright light of a new day, I went to find my father in the stables preparing his beast for the naming.   
“Lye must quena yassen i' elders.(We must speak with the elders)” I told him, reaching to touch the cold metal of the plow. Father hummed, hid fingers fastening the belts of armor around his beasts neck.   
“Lle must quena ereb. Lle naa en' age. (You must speak alone. You are of age.)” He said. He turned to me; his dark hood casting a shadow over his face. I nodded slowly and looked around.   
“Manke naa i' travelers?(Where are the travelers)” I questioned. Father smirked, tilting his head towards the land behind our house. I whistled for my wargs, who came bounding gleefully after me.   
The young bard sat on a tree stump, strumming his lute and singing of my home and people. Hod stayed by my side, looking out around me. Kav trotted out to the music, curious about it. The two young beasts ran and bounced over the isles of food, following around Kav. Jaskier chuckled, holding out his palm with green treats. Hod and I walked together to where he was sitting.   
“What are you feeding them?” I questioned, my voice startled Jaskier. His face of shock and fear transforming into a smile.   
“Your father gave me some of this. I don’t know what it is but they seem to enjoy it.” I smirked and pat the young beasts.   
“It’s called Dragons breath. We use it while we tame; it creates a bond between us.” I stroked at the fur on Hod’s neck as I leaned into his warmth.   
“Where is the Witcher?” I asked, Jaskier wiped his slobbered palm on the silver warg's fur only to get his hand covered in hair and wet spit.   
Jaskier looked at me with disgust then at his palm.   
“I don’t know, I saw him go into these woods earlier.” Sighing, I shook my head. He was hunting.   
“Use this.” I tossed Jaskier a small rag to wipe his hands and he stood to follow me back towards the house.   
“Where are you going?” He asked, his hands stringing his lute behind his back.   
“Going to speak to the Elders. We have a celebration to plan.” Hod clung to my side as I walked alone to the elders.   
After discussing the naming ceremony, the town of Myomel prepared. Jaskier stayed close to the stables while I covered Hod and Kav in their armor; the metal gleaming and shimmering against the light of the sun, intricate swirls and designs covered every inch of the cold steel. The two nameless wargs would be getting their names after nightfall; I beamed with glee and pride. My hands fastening new leather straps to over their necks and beneath their chests.   
“What’re you doing?” Jaskier questioned.  
“Preparing for the beginning of the ceremony.” Tightly fastening the leather straps, I moved to attach my pouches of treats and dragons breath.  
“What do you do for the first part?” He questioned.  
“How many parts are there?” The Witcher’s voice quipped harshly behind me.   
“You will get your horse, Witcher.” I informed him, pulling away from the nameless beasts.  
The young wargs shook their heads and lifted their heads at the new feeling. The silver male stood quietly and patiently in contrast to the black female who shuffled uncomfortably. I stepped closer to her to adjust the collar which made her shake; dust flying throughout the air. Smiling to myself, Jaskier reached out to pet the nameless beasts.  
“You can not touch them today.Our bond needs to be strong with no distractions.” I told him. Jaskier smiled and nodded.   
My two nameless beasts followed me throughout the day as we helped prepare for the naming. In the center of the town near a small waterfall was a growing pile of wood set to be burned at the very end of the naming, large sets of hide drums were placed around it. The tables were set around, plates of offerings were placed on the rough wood. I swallowed at the memories of Hod and Kav’s namings; a harsh tradition deemed necessary by the spirits of the forest. The black warg pushed my shoulder with her nose, her warm breath swirling around my hood; placing my hand on her nose, I smiled knowing her name.   
As the dusk began to fall, the streets crowded near the gates of Myomel waiting for the silver warg and I to appear and transform our bond to steel. The drums began their quick beats on the thin hide of beasts now passed on. I stroked the silver warg's cheek, his soft eyes closing as our foreheads connected for a moment.   
“Lle desiel? (Are you ready)” Father asked. His hands holding out my swords. I nodded silently as I took them. Jaskier watched beneath a hood of his own next to the Witcher. Both of their faces were easily seen in comparison to my people. Father’s thumb wiped my cheek with a shiver and a quivering chin.   
“Amin will entula. (I will return)” I said, my hand gently wrapping around father’s wrist. As the words passed my lips, the deep drums began their steady beats.   
Turning to the silver warg, Hod clapped his jaws at the youngling as I mounted. I squeezed his sides with my heels and we walked down the road towards the sun falling between the gates of Myomel. The citizens stood quietly beneath their hoods, bowing with a hand over their hearts as I passed slowly. We broke into a quick gallop, thundering over the land searching for the beast to seal our bond. The silver warg beneath me hung his head as he ran, steering him to the last known sighting.   
We slowed to a walk, listening carefully as I looked upon what was once green lavish land; my heart sank at the black rotten trees and ash that piled on the ground. Dismounting, I stepped towards the cave carefully and quietly with the silver warg not far behind. A rumble sounded from behind us, the ground growing then falling as the beast ripped beneath us. Stepping away from the cave, the massive jaws and spiked teeth came first. The silver warg stepped back with a whimper and fallen ears as I slashed at the creature. It’s paw swiping at my thigh and knocking me to my knee, I crawled back still holding my swords and whistled.   
The silver warg lifted his ears, moving forward one step then staying where he was. The beast opened its jaws once more as it hovered over me. I whistled once more as I cut the creature's tongue from between its teeth. The creature stepped back and the young warg charged, leaping onto the creature with his jaws gnashing and tearing at the thick flesh and muscle of its shoulder. The creature pushed the warg away with a simple wave of its arm, my nameless silver beast falling beneath a tree. Standing on my feet once more, I charged the beast and slid between its legs. My arms swung over my head to cut the ankles with my blue swords now coated in thick green blood.   
The creature cried out, the sound muddled with its blood that spilled between the gaps in its teeth. The creature dragged itself by its front claws, human like but extended to great lengths and sharp as a new dagger. The creature’s red eyes watched me carefully as I stood between the nameless warg and him. The silver warg jumped over my head, now standing before me snarling and gnashing his slobbering jaws. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, coated in the green blood; the warg charged the creature. Teeth tearing into the snout and face, shredding the red eyes from their sockets.   
I approached quickly, slashing at the creatures throat and fingers while it attempted to grab at the viscous warg. Whistling once more, the silver warg did not stop ripping the creature’s flesh with his massive teeth. Standing between the creatures face and shoulder, I held my swords over my head and stabbed with all my might, cutting the creature’s neck deeply. The nameless warg yelped loudly from the beasts dying grasp around his ribs. My heart stilled for a moment, the ground below cracking open to swallow the dead creature’s body. I hacked at the creature’s fingers to release the nameless warg who grabbed the tail of my jacket as we began to fall into the earth.   
Now, we were safe but our bond was not as strong as it should be. I looked at the silver warg next to me with tears in my vision. His silver coat was covered in green blood from the creature, his paws were shivering and his jaw quivered. His golden eyes backed in black, softened as he stepped forwards planting his head against my chest. I whistled once more, a long whistle that echoed through the trees and fields nearby. My bloody hands stroked between his ears, a tear falling from my cheek. The silver warg sat, his head bowed and eyes closed.   
Before I could lift my sword, a tail wrapped around my leg and began to pull, dragging me away. Two heavy, quick large claws stabbed the ground as the creature ran with me. I cursed holding tightly to one sword, as I turned to roll, the tail tightened to hold me on my belly. I whistled once more, a fierce quick song; my stomach knotted as the thing holding me stopped and whipped it’s tail sending me flying through the air. Beneath me were large jaws open to reveal a dark cavernous hole of a throat that threatened to swallow me as I was. The silver warg jumped on the jaws, closing them with an explosive snap; the young male’s softly grabbed my arm in his mouth as we rolled down the unknown creature who hissed as it turned around. The silver warg and I fought this creature, tooth and nail; he clung to every whistle and found his own rhythm between each tune.   
Together, we slayed two creatures. Now I lay on the ash covered ground, staring up at the grey sky above. The sight was obstructed by twisted limbs of trees; closing my eyes and parting my lips to breathe, the silver warg whimpered. He used his nose to push me to my knees as he lay beside me. The darkness of night was setting in; I crawled onto the young male, holding his fur and the leather straps in my hands. Together once more, we galloped back to the gates of Myomel plunged in darkness. The silver warg kneeled at the gates to help me dismount; the rough wounds of battle still bleeding across my legs, back, and arm.   
Father shoved his way through the crowd to look upon the two of us with dismay; father could not touch me, no one could apart from my warg. My people stepped back as we walked together, my arm draped over the silver wargs neck. Father reached out his hand before dropping it once more, his chin quivered and a small cry escaped his throat as we passed him to stand before the large pile of wood soon to be lit. I rolled my shoulders back and stood proudly, clearing my throat. Holding out my hand and whistling quickly between my lips, the black warg trotted forwards ready to prove herself.   
The silver warg whimpered once more as he watched us ride out the gate again. The black warg was eager, she moved quickly with a ferocity unseen by myself; she listened to every whistle, moved her feet as though she had practiced every movement. Her teeth clashed and clattered with the large creature, her talons tearing the flesh apart. Together, we moved and cut the beast; killing it only moments after finding it. She panted as she strode towards me confidently; her bright eyes looking down at me. Pride swelled in my chest as I threw myself on her back once more and we were off towards Myomel with the head of the creature bouncing from her hip.   
Standing before the now lit fire, I hobbled towards the table of offerings from my people to my wargs and I. I filled my fists with the meat that was dried and seasoned, it smelt of rosemary and broth.   
“Amin naa Amyrnn, tinu en' Marlevaur, yassen sina offerien lye naa er. I' celeb warg, Khun. I' mor warg, Vang.(I am Amyrnn, daughter of Marlevaur, with this offering we are one. The silver warg, Khun. The black warg, Vang.)” As I announced their names, I handed them the offerings of flesh while I ate my offerings of fruit and vegetables. The beasts around us called out, their noises carrying and echoing; the people joined in, raising their fists in fits of yelps and howls. I raised my hand towards the night sky and from my throat flew the sound similar to an eagle. The drums now thundered with songs of joy and pride. The fire flickered and swayed reaching towards the trees and waterfall.   
The night resumed in it’s festivities, the people of Myomel rejoicing and praising the three of us as we walked past. Hod and Kav yipped and howled as we passed them; the Witcher staring directly at us while Jaskier bowed as the others did.   
“Let us get your horse, Witcher.” I told him. He smirked and followed me to the stables for a purchase. Khun and Vang stayed close by, their leather collars clinking softly with each careful step they took. Despite being wounded and exhausted, I was gifted a horse; a chestnut gelding with a long white blaze and four white stockings. The hooded woman at the stables bowed her head, pressing her clasped hands to her lips.   
I sat by the fire, the heat radiating over me and warming my wounds. I looked at the cut on my thigh, blood fell in an even stream wetting the cloth of my pants and staining my moccasins; it was a long, thick gash that stretched from the top and stretched across the inside of my thigh. Khun sighed as he lay next to me, his head stretching over and lapping at the blood of my leg. I hissed as his tongue cleaned the skin, my back straightened from the pain while my leg jolted at the feeling. Jaskier gleefully danced around the fire, his hood hardly covering his gleaming eyes as he bounced and jumped around, twirling a woman who beamed with light as she spun while holding tight to his finger.   
My hands began to quiver as I raked my fingers over the wound; focusing my mind, white light expelled the pain, I could feel the nerves erupt from nothing, the skin rejoining then puffing in a scar. Opening my eyes, I exhaled quickly and pulled my hand away to rest beside me on the wooden bench. I hunched over my knees, panting heavily from the relief of the pain; I couldn’t reach the considerable wound on my spine, and the bites on my arm were less than memorable in comparison. I looked up once more, enjoying the feeling that swirled around with the wind; the people of Myomel danced, rejoiced.   
Father stepped around gleefully, speaking with the elders; his time as elder would be approaching soon. The thought bringing a smile to my face, his well deserved time of rest and wisdom was within grasp. My fingers reached for more fruit, more offerings behind me; the flavors of the fruit and vegetables combining on my tongue. Sweet ale was offered to me and I downed it; it provided a thick warmth that spread about my stomach and through my limbs. Khun and Vang lay next to me on either side, watching the people around us with cautious eyes. The elders saw me from across the table, bowing their heads while their fingers touched their lips then extended the hand towards me.   
A bright smile lit up my face, and I repeated the sign of respect. I looked around once more, the Witcher brooded by the fire, his pale face hidden under the edge of his hood. Slowly, the town began to fall in drowsiness; the hold of sleep taking over. The fire continued to burn brightly as, one by one, families retreated back to their homes. Khun and Vang stayed by my side during the night; laying their heads against their paws and beginning to snore quietly. I watched my father approach with a broad smile and a cup of ale in his hand.   
“Amin sinte lle entula.(I knew you would return)” I chuckled at his words and looked around.  
“Amin nauva wanwa e' i' amrun.(I will be gone in the morning)”   
My father’s smile dropped as he sat near Vang while shaking his head.   
“Mani en' i' witcher ar' i' Lindar?(What of the Witcher and the Bard)” He asked. I turned to him and dropped my hood then reached for him only stopping halfway. I wanted to tell him to inform them of where I was going but I remembered he could not speak common; licking my lips, I looked down at Vang asleep between us.   
“Lle will caela a' stay.(You will have to stay)” He murmured. I nodded my head and closed my eyes once more.   
“Tul a. A' lle rath.(Come. To your bed)” Father said. I chuckled at his sudden act of paternity.   
Father and I walked back towards the house alongside our beasts still in their armor that clinked and jingled with every step or movement.   
“Warg Rider.” A deep voice called from our stables. I waved father inside before walking over to the stables myself.   
“Witcher.” I replied, my voice harsh. I relieved Hod and Kav of their armor quickly, and while hanging it on the wall, the Witcher went to grab my arm.   
“Do not touch me.” I spat, Khun and Vang stepped forwards past Hod and Kav with their lips lifted to reveal their sharp white teeth. The white haired Witcher glanced at them before stepping back and dropping his hand.   
“You were to leave tonight?” I nodded in silence, my fingers pulling on my hood to conceal my face.   
“The Bard and I could follow.”   
I scoffed, pointing at Jaskier. He snored on a bale of hay with his lute still in his arms and his hood still on his head. The man before me sighed heavily, silently agreeing that it would be in our best interest to travel in the morning.   
“I will gather provisions in the morning.” I wished him a goodnight before turning back to the house with my wargs close behind. The five of us were alone once more; my gut told me these moments could be few and far between but that it would always truly be the five of us. Khun and Vang stayed close to my head while I slept as Hod and Kav lingered at the door and window.


	7. 7

The next morning, I woke before the rest of the town. Myomel was swallowed in silence; the large pile of wood now hardly as tall as Father that continued to unleash a long stream of waving white smoke high into the air. The sun rose slowly; casting a golden ray of light on the city. I looked at the now empty table of offerings; the plates placed carefully and the pale wood decorated with local flowers and feathers of beasts. I looked around slowly once more to take in every sight of Myomel that had formed me into the person I am.   
Sliding the barn doors open, my wargs yawned and shook as I approached with food for them.   
“Warg Rider.” Jaskier announced. His voice harsh with pain and exhaustion. I hummed in response while preparing myself for the indefinite time ahead.   
“I must tell you,” He began while attempting to sit up, his hands removing the hood from his face, “I saw your face the other night.” Instantly, I paused. My shoulders fell and my jaw clenched as I finished the knot of my bag of Dragon’s Breath. I turned to face Jaskier; his hands rested on the sides of his face while his eyes closed tightly. The rules were very strict about our faces being revealed apart from marriage, or outside of family, or being an elder.   
“Have you told anyone?” I asked. My voice was soft as he shook his head.   
“And I will not either. Your beauty lies with me.” I chuckled while rolling my eyes at him.   
Geralt stood by the barn door in silence, as per usual.   
“Are we leaving?” He asked, his deep voice cutting through the air and disturbing Jaskier further. I nodded as I stepped towards the stall door of my Wargs. The heavy metal latch cold beneath my fingers while I tugged it up then pulled it towards Jaskier; the action releasing two beasts at a time. We prepared our rides with a certain speed then made our way quietly towards the gates.  
“Leavien ikotane rato?(Leaving so soon)” Calanon asked, his hand halting Kav.  
“Amin will entula.(I will return)” I told him with a smile. Calanon returned the smile and allowed us on our way with a small goodbye.   
Our small group made our way past the woods where I had fought the guardian many years ago. Myomel has disappeared behind us, only open land free of any beast or human or creature as far as the eye could see.   
“My head is killing me.” Jaskier complained.   
“Myomellian wine is strong.” I stated with a quick chuckle.   
“Do you have anything for the pain? Or might I ride with you?” Hod growled deeply at Jaskier who lowered his hands from Kav’s back.   
“No.” Geralt and I both said. Geralt’s head tilted towards me slightly.   
We continued walking through the open space, taking breaks as needed, but slept in the woods. Sitting by the small fire, Jaskier popped question after question of the naming ceremony along with other ceremonies we celebrated.   
“What beasts did you kill with your wargs? Why do you take them separately? Why not go at once? What happens if someone dies?” Inhaling sharply while prodding at the tinder, I went to answer.   
“The beasts are sacred, we do not speak their names. We take them separately to test the bond, if they go together, one beast might overpower the other forcing the weaker beast to be killed. If someone dies, they never return to Myomel.”   
“What about weddings? How do you celebrate them if no one is allowed to see your face?” I paused to look at him, my tongue poking out to wet my lips. Vang sighed as she lied down behind me. Khun whined as he yawned; everyone grew tired of Jaskier’s questions.   
“You pray you marry someone attractive.” I joked.   
Geralt chuckled across from us, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight while his smile disappeared in an instant.   
“Are you allowed to marry someone outside of Myomel?”   
“You may, but it is frowned upon. Many of us do not marry for love or wealth but for the beasts we tame.” I told him. I leaned back to rest against the silver warg; his heavy head resting on my chest, his heavy breaths blowing at Jaskier next to me.   
“For the beasts?”  
“Everyone in Myomel has different beasts, very few have the same beasts. If someone wishes to be able to tame another type, they must marry a Myomellian with that beast.” Jaskier hummed, then looked over to Geralt who simply stared into the fire at the soles of my moccasins.   
Jaskier’s eyes flashed up and down Geralt’s tired form; his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his golden eyes glaring at the yellow and orange flames that danced and flickered between the three of us. Jaskier looked at me once more, his pink lips parting to question me more. Closing my eyes, I rolled my head to look at him. His soft blue eyes contained such an excitement.   
“How are weddings performed?”   
“Weddings are performed between the partners in their own home. The people gift the couple with food, drink, hides, and other gifts. We never see them until the wedding is done.” My head rested comfortably while my hand continued to gently stroke the soft fur of the young warg.   
“How do you know when the wedding is done?” Jaskier asked. Keeping my eyes closed, I spoke.  
“When the sun of a new day rises.”   
I slept uncomfortably, a heavy feeling weighing on my chest despite not belonging to Khun. I sat up to look around me at my traveling companions; Geralt’s head hung low, his arms still crossed over his chest but not as tightly. Jaskier was spread out, his arms and legs being pulled in every direction while his jaw hung slack and heavy breaths filled his lungs with a high wheeze. I moved quickly and quietly beneath the bright moon. Hod tiredly trotting behind; his toes dragging the leaves beneath our feet as we made our way through the woods. Finally, I stood with my shoulder resting against the thick, rough bark of a large tree.   
Staring at the moon, I could see every line and dimple upon her full face. Her bright reflection lit the way for the animals of the night. My mind weighed heavy with the options to leave the spirit’s quest to travel to find the mage that should stand beside the king of Nilfgaard and to continue taming beasts across the land. Hod stood next to me, his ear twitching as he looked to me with parted jaws. He peered out once more, his ears catching every miniscule sound of the darkness.   
“Nyara amin mani um-, hod.(Tell me what to do, Hod)” I jokingly pleaded, my arms crossing over my chest while I continued to ponder and weigh the choices.   
As I thought, twigs snapped behind us; an echoing contrast to the still tranquility around us. My mind knew it was the Witcher, the man walked as though he were a beast in a man's skin; the only person to walk with more fervour being Jaskier.   
“I thought you were sleeping, Witcher.” Geralt stilled himself with a heavy sigh.  
“How did you know?” He asked, approaching.  
“You are quite loud when you walk despite being a hunter.” Geralt chuckled softly as he separated us with the tree trunk.   
“You’re thinking.”   
“I always think. Why aren’t you sleeping?” I responded quickly.  
Geralt paused, his shoulder struggling to find a comfortable resting place.   
“I was thinking.” He said after finally finding a resting place. I hummed in response as I continued to toss the thought back and forth in my brain.   
“Is it your spirit?” My brows furrowed in the dimness.   
“Are you referring to Qhuagi?”   
“I don’t know it’s name; whichever spirit gave you it’s power.” Geralt’s tone was harsh, sharp, almost cruel as he spat his words at me. My brows rested once more while I inhaled sharply and hummed once more. Hod’s head turned towards me, his eyes soft before he placed his head against my torso. The sudden weight caused a heavy breath to escape my lips.   
The three of us stood beneath the milky light while Hod gently rubbed his head against my cloak. Moments passed, the moon lowered slightly through the night; I could only sigh in my indecisiveness. I closed my eyes and rested against the tree’s trunk; the bark holding tightly to my brown cloak as I slid to rest on the ground.  
“If you believe in your spirit, you should do as they command.” Geralt murmured. My brows knitted tightly, I tilted my head in his direction and swallowed.   
“It’s not a matter of doing what they command, it is a matter of when.”  
“When do they expect this to be done?” Sighing, I rubbed my face.   
“They did not say.” The leaves around his rustled then rested in the quiet once more as Geralt hummed.   
While Geralt inhaled, I stood and mounted Hod in an instant. The two of us now standing before Geralt who sat uncomfortably beneath the tree and stared at us with a blank stare.   
“So you now know what you will do?” His gruff voice asked. A small smile formed on my face as I gave him a small nod.  
“I will beat you to the next beast.” Geralt shook his head as he now stood, his hands motioning for me to wait a moment.   
“Your spirits told you to not leave me.”   
“I won’t be. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Before the white haired Witcher could speak another word, Hod and I made with haste to gather the others.   
The fire burned low as I gathered my bow and quiver, the three sleeping beasts took to their feet without complaint; the sounds I could not help but make only stirred Jaskier from his wheezing sleep.   
“Are we leaving?” I mounted Khun and looked down to Jaskier.   
“I am, you are staying with the Witcher.” Jaskier sat up quickly, leaves clinging to the back of his jacket as he raked his hand through his hair.   
“Where are you going?” I shook my head. Without another word, the four of us made our way out of the forest and towards the town mentioned by the spirit that had taken over my father.   
Long grueling months had passed as the four of us paused only momentarily in small towns, gathering information on both Nilfgaard and the Witcher. The five of us wandered through a town once more entangled in a beasts dangerous and debilitating web. As we walked through the large town, people of all ages stepped aside, their eyes wide with shock and fright while we passed. The townspeople had many who were weak and pale from lack of food, in contrast, the guards of the castle seemed more than healthy.   
“Halt! What is your business here, Warg Rider?” Tilting my head to the young guard, I looked at the castle once more. Vast in size and reach over its people.   
“I have been summoned to control a beast that you can not.”   
The guards shuffled while trading glances between themselves.   
“You must dismount and leave your beasts here.” I chuckled at the invitation.   
“They will follow me.”   
“Should you refuse again, you are to be executed on orders of the king.” Sighing, I dismounted and stepped to face the young guard.   
“Then tame your own beast.” His face paled as Vang stepped forwards, her lips lifting and her talons prepared to pounce. The guards surrounded the five of us with clanking steel and clattering wooden spears.   
Glancing around us, my hands tightened around the handles of my swords.   
“Warg Rider, by ordinance of the King, you and your beasts are hereby sentenced to death.”   
I looked at my beast’s as the men stared waiting for a movement from us to strike. I flashed my head back to the guard, a placidity fell over the town; the townspeople watched nearby as I drew my swords and began to slash at the guards. Vang’s jaws tore the steel helmet from a man’s head, his hands thrashing as his screams turned to gurgles; Hod pinned a woman under his front paw while his jaws shredded another guards armor; Khun thrashed his head back and forth as he held the torso of a guard between his silver jaws; Kav snarled, wasting no time in killing as many as she could. The sound of clattering armor as it landed on the ground around us filled the air, the smell of blood and bile collided with the already present smell of death. I slashed my swords across the guards throat, a quick and simple end to the fat, pale man. I avoided a spear by stepping back and trapping it under my sword; before her fear could register on her face, Vang leapt over the wargs and brought her to the ground with horrid screams.  
Fingers gripped the back of my hood; I pressed my head into the person’s palm and brought my elbow to meet their nose with a cracking. The person stepped away, their fingers leaving the cloth protecting my face. I followed them with quick movements; they slashed their sword without precision, merely in panic, they grunted and panted as their steel made contact with mine. I used my other sword to cleanly stab through their armor into their gut.   
“Should you live, tell your king the Warg Rider will accept nothing less than his head.” I pulled my sword from their stomach; a quick tear from flesh and steel that had the person on their back in a growing puddle of blood and bile that mixed with the others.   
The screams had ceased as I had mounted once more, many guards lay still and dead; steam of exposed flesh and hot blood floating away through the cold air. My beast licked their lips, their paws and faces covered in a crimson blanket of gore. The five of us trotted past the group of starving townspeople; their pale boney faces pleading silently for help. We made our way quickly to the edge of town, the homes and farmsteads becoming fewer and fewer when a young woman ran from the door of a home to stand in front of me.   
“I beg of you, help us.”   
“I can only suggest you tell everyone left to leave.”   
“And go where?” She asked, her eyes brimming with tears.   
My heart ached for the town too stubborn to accept help, for the people who were ruled by a selfish prick. Closing my eyes for a mere second, I looked at her once more.   
“Brinegulf is free of beasts.”  
“Brinegulf is more than a three months ride.” I sighed heavily.   
“Then stay.” I gave Vang a small squeeze with my heels and we were off once more; the five of us galloping towards the next town, the cold wind blurring our vision with tears and burning my cheeks. The barren ground beneath our feet turned to mud as I thought of Nilfgaard, what weapons did they possess, what version of evil had I not seen.   
The day had ended sometime ago, the five of us made our way towards a new bustling city in need of aid. A city that rested in the shadows of the mountains, rumored to be plagued with flying beasts sent straight from hell, Westermill. I sat in the busy tavern in the corner, the room filling with men and dwarves alike who sang songs and drank with a fervor. Outside the window, more and more people came for the reward of killing the winged beast from the mountains. Tables of men and women would turn to glance or stare at the Warg Rider; I could hear whispers being spoken of songs sung of my people, more specifically, me. How they wondered what I looked like, how they wondered where Myomel is, how they longed to see me in action.   
“Black Crow.” A harsh voice spoke from over my shoulder, a familiar voice reaching out.   
“Witcher.” I replied while turning around. Neither of us said anything else, only sat side by side in silence while the tavern bustled and brewed in drunkenness.   
Eventually, I had had enough. The Witcher followed me as I made my way through the door and into the sobering night air. My four beasts joined me at my side, escorting me to the stables for a momentary rest.   
“I heard word of your dealings with the king in Baleniro. You left the townspeople to die.”   
“The king wanted me dead.” I replied, my hands full of more things needed for the night's watch. I stuffed the items along the leather straps on Kav’s shoulders and sides.   
“That’s unlike you.” Geralt said, I sighed and rolled my head to look at him.   
Closing my eyes once more, I dropped my head into Kav’s shoulder. I knew it was wrong to leave them, to leave the beast untamed.   
“He will find you.” Geralt said, his arms crossed over his broad chest before he took a step towards me.   
“Let him.” I said sternly. I turned to look at him, his stern face turning to a smirk.   
“We should be going.” He said. Mounting our rides, we made our way from the stables and into the cold night air. Steam floated through the air as we galloped up towards the mountain. Rushing hoof beats and paws tore through the slick freezing mud as we rode side by side through the moon's light.   
Pausing for a moment, I dismounted to look at the ground for proof of this dragon's existence. Long stretches of deep disturbed ground showed us to its perching spot.   
“These are too long.” I said, following the trail further up the mountain. Geralt followed closely, his golden eyes tracing the lines.   
“This is not what they told us it would be.” Geralt said.


End file.
